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sleepless-in-starbucks · 3 years ago

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I Want Us Both to Eat Well

Ao3

Summary: Remy might not be great with self-care, but they've got the 'taking care of Logan' thing down to a science. And Logan can work with that. Content: Overworking, mentions of poor eating/sleeping habits, caretaking, it’s pretty soft overall, nonbinary remy Pairing: Losleep

Despite what some may think, Logan didn’t have the most demanding of jobs within the mindscape. He wouldn’t call his work a walk in the park, of course, but when he was largely tasked with matters such as scheduling and memory allocation, versus such things as emotional processing or idea creation, Logan had no plans on complaining.

And Logan’s most complicated job? Even less complaints to be figuratively filled, given it was his favorite.

See, for a good while now, Logan had been dating Remy, a figment of the Imagination created by Roman for a one-time vine gag that somehow managed to get enough permanence for themself to function as their own being. For a bit, they had simply wandered about, teasingly flirting with not only the sides but Thomas himself. Something about Logan must have held their attention however, because soon enough he was the only side being ‘bothered’.

It didn’t take long for the feelings of ‘botherment’ to morph into amusement, which furthermore transformed into affection and soon even love. Remy had made a bad attempt at celestial flirting, and despite the inaccuracies, Logan had greatly appreciated the sentiment.

Appreciated it enough to allow “I love you” to escape both his thoughts and mouth, an acknowledgement that had left the two of them in similar states of shock for a whole ten seconds before Remy was in Logan’s lap and doing their damndest to kiss him breathless.

Remy only became more cemented in the inner workings of Thomas’s mind after that, likely a consequence specifically of how much time they were spending in Logan’s room. They were still a figment, but they were rapidly gaining actual responsibilities, things they had to do or else Thomas would directly suffer. Most were connected to sleeping- making sure the sides were rested, bullying Thomas to bed when needed, lining up memories as appropriate to be saved and stored during REM- but some were simply random, the misc assignments settling onto the not-a-side.

Usually, Remy could manage it all without much issue. They would complain heavily, sure, bemoaning the days when they were a free-spirit with nothing to do, almost sounding like Roman when they spoke of the cruelty of fate that such was the price of love, but as long as Logan was there to hum sympathetically and play with their hair, they were good.

Occasionally however… it was too much. Too many late nights and sleepless mornings convincing others to rest, too many memories to pick between and sort, too many tasks all piling up. Remy would get overwhelmed and end up overworked if no one stopped them in time.

Luckily for Remy… they had Logan.

Figuring out that Remy had hit their breaking point wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, the first step of Logan’s ‘job’ therefore being the most difficult. Remy, for all their bellyaching, didn’t want to be perceived as a slacker or irresponsible with their job. With sunglasses, coffee, and their devil-may-care attitude, they could normally fake being alright for a day or two past actually being alright.

But the facade always cracked in the end, and as soon as it did, Logan was there.

So, the second step, taken once Logan recognized those cracks: eat a good and filling breakfast. This step was especially important, and made the list to remind Logan that a coffee and crofters-covered bagel wouldn’t be sufficient.

Next, Logan went about assigning Remy’s usual tasks to the other sides. To Virgil and Patton, enforcing Thomas’s bedtime. To Janus, memory dealings. To Roman and Remus, whichever various misc tasks Remy had at the time. And top it all off with a lecture to the lot of them to sleep well.

(Logan always expected some resistance on this step, and was always surprised to find none. “If you say they need a break, they need a break.” Virgil said one time with a shrug. “We want to help where we can.”)

Then there came the final step: convincing Remy to take a break. To most, this would be the hardest step. Even when all their work was attended to, Remy would insist they had things to do, that they couldn’t just take a break, especially not one as long as Logan would suggest.

Logan wasn’t ‘most’.

Before Logan entered his room (or, more accurately, his and Remy’s room, the figment not having a place outside of the Imagination and therefore opting to move into Logan’s), he double checked that everything was ready.

Breakfast? Eaten.

Time? Well past noon.

Work? Distributed.

Tie? Loosened.

Shirt? Untucked.

“Hotel? Trivago.” (vocabulary cards!)

Logan let himself into his (now shared) room. Remy was sprawled across his (now shared) bed, flipping through their own notecards- the form memories took when viewed within the logical side’s room. Their sunglasses were set aside on Logan’s (now shared) desk, making it easy for Logan to spot the dark bags beneath their eyes.

They glanced up when Logan entered, cocking an eyebrow as they took in his appearance. “You’ve looked better, babe.” Remy commented lightly, though Logan could hear the concern in their voice. “You here to crash? I can move.”

Logan didn’t answer right away, instead walking over to stand in front of Remy. Before his partner could guess what he was doing, Logan had grabbed the memory cards they were sorting, easily willing them away.

Remy’s eyebrow only raised higher. “Alright, yeah, someone needs to take a nap.”

“And that someone would be you.” Logan replied. “Or, more appropriately, someone needs to take several days to rest.”

Remy chuckled. “You sure about that, sweetheart? I wouldn’t think you’d want me falling behind on work, especially for Thomas’s sake.”

“Your work is being handled, Thomas will be fine.” Logan assured, taking a moment to tenderly tuck some of Remy’s hair behind their ear. Remy’s expression softened at the gesture. “I have taken care of everything for you, save one thing.”

“Oh?” Remy prompted, looking vaguely amused by Logan’s approach. “And what’s that one thing, doll?”

With a smile, Logan settled himself in Remy’s lap, arms wrapping lightly around the back of their neck. “Myself.”

Remy’s brow furrowed at the answer, their concern returning full force. “Log-”

“I have not eaten since breakfast,” he neglected to mention it was a large enough breakfast the lack of lunch hadn’t truly affected him, “I am stressed,” he ignored that the stress was Remy-based, “and my appearance is unkempt;” he pretended this was not a very conscious choice, “therefore, I should be resting, and yet, I am not.”

“You do seem tired…” Remy murmured, one of their hands moving to rest steadily on Logan’s hip while the other gently cupped his cheek. Logan appreciated the moment as long as he could, lazily leaning into Remy’s touch while the overworked figment searched his face for more signs of exhaustion.

Then they squinted at him. “Wait. This isn’t some ploy of yours, is it? ‘Cause no offense hun, but this feels a bit too easy. Normally you go running when I try to stop you from working on bad days.”

“I admit I am usually more… difficult about such matters, but I assure you, my love, this is no ploy. That would imply only I benefit from this situation. I think we both would.”

“Oh? How so?”

Logan’s fingers traced random patterns on Remy’s upper back. “You prefer to see me in good health and enjoy taking care of me. I prefer to see you in good health and know that letting you take care of me will subsequently lead to you being taken care of as well.” He kissed Remy’s forehead. “We both benefit, for the sake of not only ourselves, but each other as well.”

Remy sighed, their attempt at annoyance falling rather flat, in Logan’s opinion. “I can tell you’ve planned this out, babe.” Their hand on Logan’s cheek slipped into his hair, lightly scratching at Logan’s scalp.

The logical side involuntarily let out a content hum at the motion, briefly letting his eyes close as he pressed closer against Remy, their hand now supporting more of his head than Logan was. “Mhm, the plan of self-care? I think it’s a good plan.” Logan partially opened his eyes to catch Remy’s gaze. It was fond and sweet, Remy having clearly been swayed by tired Logan. “Do you think it’s a good plan?”

“Yeah.” Remy agreed softly, Logan grinning as he realized he had ‘won’ (really, they had both won, seeing how desperately Remy needed rest, but for the intents and purposes of this particular situation… Logan had won). “It was a great plan, angel.”

Logan allowed his head to be transferred onto Remy’s shoulder, happily nestling it into the crook of their neck. He could feel as Remy shifted their position, clearly going to lay Logan down on the bed. However, the bed alone would not be enough, Logan locking his arms behind Remy’s neck when they tried to let him go.

“Oh, come on, sugar, I can’t- I need both my hands- oh, alright, fine, if you’re gonna be like that, I’ll make it work.”

It took a couple minutes longer than it might have if Logan had allowed Remy to let go of him, but soon enough Logan was being deposited in a proper pile of blankets and pillows, all packed in together and arranged in the corner of the bed that lined up against the corner of the wall. He released Remy this time, comfortably sinking into the heap.

“I’m happy you’ve deemed this arrangement of your bed more acceptable than the one you yourself made, sweetheart.” Remy teased even as they worked on tucking the pile closer around him. “I’m going to grab lunch now, alright? Don’t go anywhere.”

It was an unnecessary request, given that Logan’s master plan of self-care wouldn’t benefit from him making Remy hunt him down, but the familiarity of it made Logan snort. The blanket-pillow lump had a one hundred percent success-rate with dissuading Logan from escape, no matter the circumstance, but Remy’s consistency in reminding Logan to stay put was endearing every time.

Remy returned within a few minutes, carrying a plate filled with ham and cheese cubes and some bunches of purple grapes. They placed it on part of the bed not overtaken by the plush pile before carefully climbing over it, cautious to not make a mess as they joined Logan. They slid into place behind him with practiced ease, shifting Logan to be more in their lap and against their chest before tucking the blankets back in around them both.

Logan leaned back against Remy as they settled, resting his head at a tilted angle so that he could keep his eyes on Remy. Noticing this, Remy smiled softly, pressing a kiss to Logan’s forehead.

“Alright babe who hasn’t eaten since breakfast, time to eat.” Remy said, tugging the plate closer to them before picking up one of the cubes and offering it to Logan. He let Remy pop it in his mouth, swallowing it while Remy grabbed another morsel of food. The motions were easy and repetitive, and soon enough nearly half the plate was gone.

Breaking the skin on a grape, Logan caught Remy’s wrist as they went to offer him a ham cube. Remy raised an eyebrow. “Darlin��?”

“You need to eat too.” Logan explained, nudging Remy’s hand towards their own face. “I know how you get when you’re busy.”

“Well now you’re not even being subtle.” Remy teased even as they accepted their redirected ham cube. Alternating between themself and Logan, Remy returned to their work of emptying the plate, quickly finishing off what remained of it.

When there was nothing left on the dish, Remy gracelessly pushed it off the bed, Logan well aware they’d pick it up later but still rolling his eyes at the laziness in the gesture.

“Shh, I can hear you thinking, love.” Remy trailed a few kisses down the side of Logan’s face, their arms wrapping snugly around his waist. “It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up later. Don’t worry about it.”

“You could take care of it now though.” Logan argued weakly, already once-more melting into Remy’s hold.

Remy chuckled, peppering more kisses across his chin. “Then I’d have to let go of you, my lovely Lo, and I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.”

“Mmm, fair point.”

“Plus,” Remy went on as they began to slide into a more horizontal position, laying Logan down with them and briefly releasing his waist so as to move his glasses from his face to the bedside table, “it’s naptime. Someone needs their rest.”

“You.”

“Which one of us is taking care of the other again? You’re the tired one.”

Logan laughed quietly at Remy’s rebuttal, rolling over and nuzzling his face into Remy’s neck. He wasn’t sure when the lights in the room had turned off, but he was fairly certain it had been Remy’s doing. “Fine. I am very tired. So tired I have completely forgotten what to do now. Remind me how to sleep.”

“Dramatic-ass.” Remy’s tone was too soft to match their words. They pressed their cheek against Logan’s hair, their breath as they spoke close enough for Logan to feel its warmth. “You’ve just gotta close your eyes and stop thinking about anything that isn’t your wonderful partner and their wonderful fluffy pile of comfort and relaxation.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Logan dropped a kiss on Remy’s collarbone. “I could do this for days and days and-”

“Shhhh, starlight. Rest.” Remy slowly ran a hand up-and-down Logan’s back, successfully distracting him from his poorly-veiled (but loving) jab at Remy. “Bully me later.”

Logan didn’t respond verbally, opting instead to hum in contentment and snuggle up closer to Remy. There was no way they’d be able to slip out of bed without Logan noticing- not that they’d try, not now, but Logan appreciated the assurance of proximity. Despite not truly being tired, Remy’s warmth and Logan’s relief at knowing they would finally be resting themself were enough to make his eyelids heavy, the idea of sleeping peacefully with his partner too tempting to pass up.

So, yes, Logan did have some difficult duties to attend to, the caretaking of Remy the most complicated of them all. But drifting off happily in Remy’s arms, Logan remained firm in his stance that it was his favorite duty.

#losleep #ts logan #ts remy #ts sleep #fanfiction #fanfic #ts fanfic #sanders sides #nb!remy #i hope y'all like this but 's okay if not bc it is- per the usual- v self indulgent sldjfmvksdl #i think it came out good tho

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honeysidesarchived · 3 years ago

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WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

pt. ii: they whose lives do not taste of evil ( read on ao3 ) ( masterlist )

words: 2.7k

warnings: none that are chapter specific.

rating: m/t

notes: thank you to everyone who has loved on me and supported me after posting the first part of this! it really makes me so warm and fuzzy inside and i cannot express in words how grateful i am. ♡

as always, thank you to my love @starcrier for being my most wonderful beta. ♡♡

Morning light filters through the curtains in the bedroom. The air conditioning had clicked off moons ago, having decided that the room was at its sufficient temperature; now just a few rays of the sun are warming the carpet on her side, cutting across the cream-colored knit blanket at the foot of the bed. Through the windows, she can hear the bustle of New York—churning, grinding, a beast of its own as it laboriously beneath their own feet.

Sometimes, Euphemia thinks that she hates New York—that she misses the countryside in Italy, that she misses bare feet on grass and warm, dark earth and the sticky-wet of pulling fruit straight from the vine. Sometimes, Euphemia thinks that New York is a beast waiting for her, to swallow her up, teeth ripping through pavement and concrete and brick to bite bite bite until it reaches her.

But not today. Today, Euphemia is not thinking about the Beast. She is thinking only about the fact that Santino’s spot beside her is empty, and then she’s reminded that today he will be wandering out into the world under the Table to ask a man who doesn’t want anything to do with Santino to grant him a favor. To grant Santino what he is owed, as he would prefer it framed.

Euphemia sits up in bed. She’s not sure when it is that she finally fell asleep, but if the drag of exhaustion in her mind is any indication, it wasn’t very long ago. She can’t recall if she dreamt, or if she rested even at all—if she had to guess, she’d think she spent the entire night tossing and turning, restless, with the burning itch of John Wick’s threatening presence looming in her future.

She can hear Santino out in the kitchen; the smell of coffee drifts in through the open door. The blonde slips out of bed to wander out, her footfalls quiet on the plush carpet, and she sees him—dressed, polished up, as though he got a perfect eight hours of sleep. An old song hums through the speakers of the sound system on the entertainment stand.

So much for keeping him distracted, Euphemia thinks ruefully.

“Good morning,” Santino greets, pouring a cup of coffee and setting it on the island counter to scoot it in her direction. “You were sleeping so soundly that I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You could have,” Euphie replies, taking the cup in her hands and using it to warm her fingers rather than drinking the coffee. “It wouldn’t have mattered. I don’t feel like I have slept at all.”

“Yes,” he agrees somberly, “you were restless.” His hand reaches up, the pad of his thumb tracing the slope of her jaw. “My little worrier.”

She crinkles her nose at him, finally relenting and taking a sip of her coffee. He’s made it just the way that he knows she likes—strong, rich, cream and no sugar. Santino winds his arms around her and laces his fingers against the small of her back, leaning so that he can get a long, good look at her.

“Well, go on,” he prompts her, eyes glittering playfully. “I know you want to say something to keep me home.”

Euphie’s chest tightens. It’s a little cruel of him; he wants to hear her ask, even though they both know there’s nothing she could say to change his mind. He likes to have her ask just so he can tell her no, and usually, she won’t bite. Not for his ego.

But this is different.

She sets the coffee aside, her hands instead finding his chest, holding on to the lapel of his jacket. She says, “I don’t want you to go, Santi. Please don’t go. We can stay in bed all day, or—what if we went back to Italy? Just for a little while? My mother would like to see you, I know.” Swallowing, Euphie feels her lashes flutter, the desire to let her voice wobble with emotion almost overwhelming. I won’t, she thinks, I won’t cry. “We can do anything you want, but—not this.”

“Sweet Euphie,” Santi sighs, taking her face in his hands. “Così dolce, just for me, aren’t you?” He leans in and kisses her temple; for a split second, she thinks that he might acquiesce, that he might set it aside, even for one day—indulge her, the way that he likes to do. Santino has always wanted her to be selfish with him. When they’d started dating, it took her months to get used to the way he’d buy her anything, cook her anything, give and get her anything, and for a girl who’d had so very little for so long, it had almost been nauseating. She would eat her fill, and Santino would say, more, cara mia? Would you like more? As if he had known that allowing her to indulge herself in the fruits of his world under the Table would curse her to stay, forever.

And here she was. Stuck. Blissfully, dreadfully, wretchedly, sickeningly and wonderfully stuck.

“But no,” he continues, pulling back and tilting her chin up with his fingers. “Business needs to be taken care of before I can relax.”

Euphemia releases a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding. It’s not an unexpected response, but she won’t kick herself for trying—not considering the circumstances, considering what he is leaving to do. In anything else, she might have been too proud to say please.

Her fiancé plants a kiss on both of her cheeks. “Drink your coffee,” he commands, his voice light as he grabs his phone and tucks it into his pocket, heading for the door. “What time is the engagement party?”

“Seven,” Euphie replies tiredly. She does as he bids like it’s second nature to her now, taking a drink of the coffee. “Be back by five, Santi.”

His hand is on the handle to the door outside. She thinks she might be sick. He says, “Wear the red dress I like.”

“Maybe. If you behave.”

Santino flashes her a grin from the doorway. She wonders if anyone else is comfortable ordering him around, or if she’s just so accustomed to living with an apex predator that she’s become numb to his dangers.

“Yes, cara mia,” he purrs. “Anything you say.”

Except that isn’t true, she thinks, watching him open the door and greet Ares, who has been waiting—lurking, in the hall to the elevator, like the shadows cut across the floor from the chandelier lights. There is a tiny moment where their eyes meet over Santino’s shoulder, and Euphemia hopes that she might see pity; she’s miserable, after all, knowing that Santino is walking into a slaughterhouse.

As ever, Ares is unreadable. There is only the tiny, almost imperceptible quirk of the corner of her mouth, and then door is closed and Euphemia is alone. And there is a tiny, vicious part of her that says, we ought to get used to being alone. We never should have forgotten it in the first place.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Santino is late, and when he shows up, he doesn’t say whether things went well or not.

They must have gone well enough, because he’s alive and in one piece and in a fine enough mood. But that is the problem—his mood is fine. He arrives at his own engagement party in a fine mood, and Euphemia can’t decide what’s more irritating: that he’s late, that he won’t tell her how it went, or that he can’t fake being delighted for a few hours.

“Ah, there’s your man,” Winston says, a smile lifting his expression. The older man had been keeping her company as the hour ticked by and she had to say hello and hi and thank you to every guest attending at Santino’s behest—yet another frustrating detail, Euphemia mentally notes, that he’d bothered all of these folks to show up and didn’t have the decency to arrive on time himself. She’s very certain that Winston did not intend to stay as long as he has, and for that, she feels poorly.

But she’s too irritated to express it properly. “Is that one mine?” Euphie asks lightly, turning her gaze away from Santino striding into the room and getting stopped by guests on his way to her. She twists her untouched champagne flute in her fingers, fixing her gaze back on Winston. “No man of mine would come late to his own party. Not if he wanted to walk out in one piece.”

Winston laughs at her words and gives her hand a pat. “You are a woman after my own heart, Euphemia Volpe.”

“I’ll be accepting applications for the position of my husband shortly, I think.”

She feels Santino’s hand on her waist just before he leans into kiss her cheek; the movement is so quick that she doesn’t have the time to properly avoid his affection, and he almost certainly does that on purpose.

“I am so glad you could come, Winston!” Santino announces, reaching and shaking the older man’s hand. “And that you got to spend some time with my own personal star.” He turns to her now, finally, reaching up to take her face in his hands. “Mi dispiace, Euphie, I did try to hurry.”

She tilts her head a little, lifting her chin out of his grasp. “Don’t apologize to me,” Euphemia replies. “Winston is the one you kept waiting.”

Santino grins. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes—or rather, it doesn’t look like the kind of grin that you make when you’re happy. Nothing about him screams happy, future wedded-bliss. Everything looks strained, like someone’s pissed him off and he’s just had to do something about it.

He looks at Winston, dropping his hands. “I’m sorry, truly.”

The man waves his hand, as though it isn’t a big deal—but it is, Euphie knows, at the very least to her; Winston has always treated her kindly, regardless of whose arm she was on-and he puts a hand on Santino’s shoulder. “I only came to say congratulations and see this fine lady, and then I was going to be off. So—congratulations...” His gaze turns to Euphemia. “Miss Volpe.” He kisses both of her cheeks. “Here I have seen you. And I will be on my way.”

Euphie says, “Thank you for coming, Winston. You did not need to wait around for this idiot.”

“I never say no to time with a beautiful lady,” he admonishes, making to leave. “Santino just happens to be here.”

“I will walk you out,” Santino declares. He’s only just arrived, and he smells a little bit like smoke, and he’s carrying with him a strange, frantic energy; but before Euphemia can think to say anything, he’s kissing her—hard, and a little desperate, and she can feel an eerie tremble in his hands before he pulls away and takes her drink out of her hand and swallows the entire thing in one go.

And then he’s off. Walking away with Winston, who looks calm and unbothered by the erratic display (though Winston always looks that way, so it’s no good gauge for Euphemia to tell when something is off). But something is off. As they’re walking, Santino is talking to Winston with a frenetic urgency that translates only in ways she can recognize. To the outside eye, her fiancé is composed, and perhaps a little stressed, his strides collected and tight and his lopsided grin to sharp to be pleasant.

His kiss tastes of ash. She can feel it in her mouth, still, gunpowder and smoke lingering in the palette, but she will not bring herself to think about where it came from.

By the time Santino returns from “walking Winston out”—which probably means talking to Winston about something he doesn’t want Euphie to hear—she has decided to bring it up. She doesn’t know how, yet, but she’s going to do it.

He slides his arms around her as she visits with some of their friends, burying his face into the crook of her neck, like he just can’t stand not to be touching for a second longer. The conversation carries on blithely without her; Euphie reaches up and cradles the side of Santino’s face with her hand, fingers brushing the dark, honeyed curls at his temple. She’s decided to be sweet about it.

“You seem stressed,” she murmurs.

“Not stressed,” Santino replies, speaking the words into her neck. He sways a little, turning her in his arms and pulling her against him so that he can sway her with him. The movements are leisurely in comparison to the energy that he’s carrying; pushing and pulling with the lull of the delicate music playing overhead. It should be a dream, this engagement party. It’s all golden light and warmth billowing from an ornate fireplace, the people that she cares the most about celebrating her and Santino’s love.

Euphemia says, “You smell like smoke.”

It’s not a question, and Santino knows it. He holds one of her hands in his and presses their foreheads together.

“You are so beautiful, Euphie,” he sighs dreamily. He kisses her again—less urgent this time—and she knows what it means: it’s better if she doesn’t ask. She’s going to be a D’Antonio, which means that problems get taken care of for her, and she doesn’t have to worry about following up.

Still, while the warmth of his kiss is distracting and lovely, and the feel of his hands pressing into the base of her spine where the plunging back of the red silk dress he likes the best on her makes her skin break out in delighted goosebumps, she cannot help but think, I should know. I have a right to know what’s going on.

“Santi,” she begins, lower her voice even more, “if something has happened—”

“Nothing has happened,” Santino insists, turning her slowly before drawing her back against him. “Mia piccola volpe, stop fussing. I promised you, didn’t I?”

Her lips press into a thin line. “Yes,” she replies after a minute, “you did.” But if something has happened, she wants to say, and can’t bring herself to because Santino is kissing her again, pleased with her concise and obedient answer; he kisses her again and again, between breaths, funneling all of his frenzied energy into her instead. He gives it to her to hold, but won’t tell her where it’s come from or why it’s there. Just shoves it into her for safekeeping.

People cat-call and holler and whoop and laugh, and he grins against her mouth, lifting her up against him playfully—just far enough off the ground that she loops her arms around his neck to steady herself, unable to focus on how frustrating it is to be worried, and not know why.

“Ti amo,” Santino rumbles against her collarbone, kissing there reverently. “What do you think about leaving, hm? Sneak out of our own engagement party early, so I can take you home and enjoy you properly?”

It sounds too good, to go home. It sounds too good, because just that morning, she was begging him not to leave.

“I don’t know,” she ventures, smoothing her hand absently over the lapel of his suit jacket once he’s set her back down. “I don’t know, Santi, I...”

Her voice trails off. Ares is by the door. Once, the woman had been a comfort to her; now, she’s a reminder of this traitorous thing Santino has done, this thing that sits between them but only he can see and touch and feel, and Euphie just has to suffer the consequences of it one way or another.

“Come on, cara mia,” he coaxes, drawing her eyes back to him, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger. “We can do whatever you want.”

There must be something he isn’t telling me, she thinks. Something that’s blown his pupils wide until the black at them is eating away at the gorgeous jade green of his irises. Something dreadful, that he knows she’ll hate. That she’ll fuss about.

The question sits there, just on the tip of her tongue. What about Wick? she wants to ask. But she already knows that he won’t tell her, and she is learning quickly not to ask.

Ignorance is bliss, anyway.

#santino d'antonio x oc #john wick fic #spilled ink #santino d'antonio/oc #f: where there is no temptation there is no glory #c: euphemia volpe #santino d'antonio #i still feel exceptionally shy about this but dkjhfdkf #thank u thank u thank u everyone who has given me love!!!!#x: senza tentazioni senza onore

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years ago

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to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 3/3)

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Thomas didn’t know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he’s glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he’s been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can’t figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.

(Alternatively: Janus doesn’t trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)

Chapter Warnings: swearing

Chapter Word Count: 6,292

Pairing: platonic Thomceit

(part 1) (part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

They still don’t talk about it. Thomas is beginning to suspect that this is causing a lot more problems than it solves. And by now, enough time has passed that it almost feels wrong to address it, any of it, feels like it’s too late, like he’s let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

So, he decides to try a different approach.

“Really?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow. He appears entirely unimpressed, like a teacher about to explain for the millionth time that he’s not going to give out the answers to the homework.

“Yes, really,” Thomas says. “I just can’t figure him out, and I thought maybe you could help me with that.”

Logan sighs, taking a seat across from him at the dining table. He clasps his hands in front of him, folding his fingers delicately. “Very well,” he says, “if only because the matter will continue to distract you if you don’t resolve it sufficiently. Where would you like to begin?”

He frowns, tilting his chair back until the two front legs lift off the floor. “I don’t really know,” he says. “I guess I just want to know why he acts the way he does. ‘Cause he seems to have no problem approaching me as a snake, but he’s so standoffish as a human, and I can never figure out exactly what he wants from me, like, ever. He’s just… confusing, and I don’t know what to do about it, or how to talk to him.”

Logan inclines his head. “In that case, it may be prudent to reflect on how this conundrum began in the first place,” he prompts, and Thomas thinks on it, casts his mind back to that day, and the snake in the sunshine.

“That’s the first question,” he agrees. “He started coming up here for the sun, right? To be warm?”

“It is rather fascinating that he possesses so many traits of a creature that is truly cold-blooded,” Logan says. He leans forward. “It does seem to me that acquiring warmth was a primary motivation for him, at least at first. However, there is another question to be considered, which is that of why he felt the need to do so here, rather than anywhere in the mindscape. Though it is true that there are some circumstances in which it is difficult to find a simulation of sunlight, such as when the twins insist on rainy weather in the Imagination, it is by no means impossible, and he should have the capability to summon a heat source for himself. A heat lamp, for instance.”

“But instead he came up here,” he says slowly. “So, you’re saying he wanted to be here. That he wanted to be… what, near me?” The idea sounds preposterous, though all the evidence points to it being the correct conclusion. Because if Janus didn’t want to, he wouldn’t. It’s that simple.

Logan nods. “Remember, the first time he was faced with a lack of warmth both inside the mindscape and out, he immediately accepted your offer of sharing body heat. Somehow, I find it difficult to believe that he would have behaved in such a manner if no part of his motivation involved being close to you, in some way.”

“Okay, maybe,” he says. “But I still don’t get why he’s doing it like this. He always seems so embarrassed when I try to bring it up to him, like he doesn’t want to talk about it at all.”

“Oh, come on, Thomas,” Virgil says. “You can’t possibly be that oblivious.”

Thomas starts violently, a yelp escaping his throat. He nearly overbalances, nearly sends himself and the chair crashing to the floor, but he corrects himself in time, clutching at his chest as he wrests his heart rate back down to something approaching normal levels.

“Holy smokes, Virge,” he says. “A little warning, next time?”

From where he is perched on the chair between them, Virgil shrugs, looking vaguely apologetic.

“Ah, Virgil,” Logan says. “I was wondering when you were going to arrive.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m late,” he snipes, not sounding sorry at all. “I was just making sure that, you know, Janus wasn’t listening to you guys talking about him behind his back. You can’t honestly think he’d be happy that you guys are having this conversation, can you?” Thomas blinks, and Virgil must sense his sudden increase in nerves, because he shakes his head. “He’s busy with Remus right now, so you don’t actually have to worry about it yet, but a little bit of caution wouldn’t kill you.”

He sounds annoyed, but not overly angry, so Thomas relaxes a bit. “Right,” he says, “sorry, Virgil. Wasn’t really thinking about that.” He pauses. “I have been wondering where you’ve been, actually. I really thought that you’d, uh, have a little bit more to say about the whole letting-Janus-basically-cuddle-with-me thing. But you’ve been kinda quiet.”

Virgil exchanges a glance with Logan, shifting in place. “Yeah, uh, you’ve got Logan to thank for that,” he says. “Look, I don’t like the guy. I probably never will. But—” He pauses, hunching his shoulders— “even I’ve got to admit that he’s not gonna hurt you, so honestly? I have a lot more problems with the things he says and tries to get you to do than the, uh. Whatever the hell this has been.”

He gestures broadly, leaning back. Despite his typical disaffected tone, there is an odd gravity to his words, and Thomas knows that there’s something he isn’t saying. But he won’t press the issue; not yet anyway. Virgil is entitled to his secrets, and though he has long speculated on what, exactly, his relationship to Janus is and was, he is content to leave it alone for now.

“Fair enough,” he says. “So, what do you mean about me being oblivious?”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Really? You can’t figure it out?” he asks. “Janus is the embodiment of lies and deceit, Thomas. He’s the opposite of trustworthiness.” Thomas opens his mouth to interject, since he really doesn’t see how this is relevant, or even remotely helpful, but Virgil holds up a finger, forestalling him. “And I’m not just saying that in the context of him not being trustworthy. Which he’s not, by the way, just to make that clear.”

“Yeah, no, I know exactly where you stand on this,” he mutters, and Virgil glares at him. “Sorry, sorry, please continue.”

“All I’m trying to say is that he’s got some fucking trust issues, alright?” Virgil snaps. “He’s—” He breaks off, looking away and reddening slightly. He seems to struggle with himself briefly, his face twisting into some undefinable expression: a heavy reluctance, mixed with something Thomas can’t put a name to. “He’s kinda like me, in that way. You remember how long it took me to believe you when you started telling me you actually wanted me around?”

Guilt floods him, then, the memories of how he used to treat Virgil rushing back. These past couple of years have been good, so much so that he rarely thinks back on where they started. He knows Virgil so well that it is easy to forget that he feared him, once, pushed him down and tried to ignore him rather than working with him or trying to help him.

“Virgil—”

“No, listen.” His words come insistently, once again verging on frustration, so Thomas shuts up. “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty, or whatever. We’re past that now. We’re good. And god knows I fucking hate comparing myself to him in literally any way. But what I’m trying to say is that being a, a ‘dark side’ or whatever you want to call them, it’s not exactly conducive to believing that you care, or that you value our opinions. So even though you’ve accepted him, and you’ve started actively listening to his contributions, he probably doesn’t trust you not to, like, reverse positions, or some shit like that.”

“But Thomas hasn’t shown any desire to do so,” Logan interjects, “nor any indication that his stance will change in the future.”

“Maybe,” Virgil returns, “but Janus is self-preservation, not logic. He likes to pretend that he’s all cool and confident and rational, but he’s not. So he’s gonna act out of self-defense, no matter how stupid a move that might be.”

“You’re saying he thinks I might hurt him,” Thomas says. A strange sort of horrified numbness settles into his chest at the very thought, because that is the last thing he wants. It has always been the last thing he wants. And now, so much time has passed, and they haven’t addressed it at all, and maybe it really is too late. Because Virgil is right; it only makes sense that Deceit himself would be hesitant to trust, and he’s not sure there’s anything he can say or do to convince him otherwise. If he doesn’t trust him at this point, who’s to say he’ll ever trust him at all?

Would he be right not to?

“I’m saying he’s scared you might hurt him,” Virgil says bluntly, breaking him from his thoughts, and that’s even worse. He finds it hard to picture Janus being scared, but Janus lies as easily as breathing. What’s one more emotion to mask?

He doesn’t want Janus to be scared of him.

“I’m not sure how much sense that makes,” Logan says. “If Janus truly has the trust issues that you are describing, it wouldn’t be rational for him to seek out Thomas as much as he has. If he fears being hurt, it would be more logical to stay away, rather than actively searching for his company.”

Virgil shrugs. “Exactly.”

There is a beat of silence. Thomas looks at Logan, and has the gratification of seeing that he appears as confused as he feels.

“What?” Logan asks.

“Oh my god,” Virgil says. “Do I have to be the one to spell this out? Janus has trust issues, yeah? He’s afraid of getting close to you, because he thinks you might hurt him. But he’s been spending time with you anyway. What does that tell you?”

He furrows his brow, trying to sort through the words. There is something there, a conclusion that Virgil is attempting to lead him, to, but it’s not quite—

Oh. Wait.

“That doesn’t follow,” Logan says. “You’re saying he doesn’t trust Thomas, but now you’re trying to imply that he does?”

Virgil shrugs again, this time looking remarkably self-satisfied, a smug smile forming on his lips. “I guess,” he says. “I’m not saying it has to make sense. Trust… isn’t always based on logic. Sometimes it’s just emotions, or even just a gut feeling. Intuition. And like I said, Janus pretends not to be emotional, but at heart, he’s just as much of a dramatic theater kid as Roman is, if that tells you anything. He’ll be snarky and prickly and dickish all day long, but just because he pushes you away doesn’t mean that’s actually what he wants.”

His voice lowers at the end, becoming something soft and bitter and laced with experience. Thomas exchanges another glance with Logan, but once again decides not to force the issue. Virgil will come to him when he’s ready and not a moment before.

“So, you think that he does trust me, on some level at least,” he says, working through the information as he goes. “But not enough to approach me openly, or to talk to me about it, so maybe he doesn’t trust me not to take advantage of that trust? Or maybe he doesn’t trust me to trust him, or maybe he doesn’t trust me not to reject his trust.” He pauses, considering. “Hey, do you ever say a word so many times that it starts to lose its meaning? Trust. Trust, trust, trust. Truuuust. See? Gibberish.”

Logan exhales through his nose, sharp and pointed. “Focus, Thomas,” he says wearily, and Thomas forcibly brings his head back down to earth. “Have you come to a conclusion as to what your next step should be?”

Thomas looks at him, and then looks at Virgil. They are both staring at him, twin expressions of expectation on their faces, and his heart warms to see them like this, working together so easily, united in their purposes. Logic and Anxiety, Logan and Virgil. They really do make a good team. He doesn’t know where he would be without them.

He hopes they know that.

“Yeah, I have,” he says, and laughs. “I guess I should’ve been doing it all along. I need to talk to him.”

Logan’s face relaxes, and he nods. “There you have it,” he says. “Working through this with us is fine and good, but you’ll never be satisfied until you can figuratively ‘clear the air’ with him.” He unfolds his hands, bracing them against the table as he stands, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back. “If that is all you need from me, I believe I will be on my way.”

Thomas smiles at him, helpless to do anything but. He really does love his sides. “Sure thing,” he says. “Thanks a lot, Logan.”

Logan sinks out, but Thomas is sure that a matching smile plays about his lips.

And then, he looks to Virgil, still crouched in the other chair, shoulders hunched and fingers fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. His brow is creased, his eyes narrow, and it is a far cry from the open posture of moments before.

“You good?” he asks, and then stops to reconsider. Virgil is rarely completely good, so to speak, and clearly, there is something else on his mind now. “With all of this, I mean,” he clarifies. “I know you said that you were okay with me and Janus hanging out, but I know that there’s some kind of past between the two of you, and I. Uh. I mean, I want all of you to be happy, and that includes Janus, but that includes you, too. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if there’s anything I can do to help with that.”

Virgil sighs, gaze shifting to meet his eyes. He looks tired all of a sudden, drained.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately,” he admits. “And yeah, when he first showed up and started doing this? I was freaked. I’m sure you felt that. Logan’s had to talk me down a lot. But I—” He hesitates, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ve realized something recently, and that’s the fact that a lot of my problems with Janus are pretty personal. Not all of them, but more than I really thought. And I don’t think it’s fair to you to push my view of him onto you when really, I’ve just been projecting my own feelings.” He shakes his head ruefully. “My private issues with him don’t necessarily mean that he never makes any good points. Maybe if I hadn’t been so against hearing him out in the first place, we could’ve avoided a lot of bullshit. So, I’m sorry. From here on out, I’m gonna try to be better about that.”

Thomas blinks. And then blinks again. He feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest, a weight that he didn’t know was there at all. It’s only now that it’s gone that he realizes how worried he has been about this, about Virgil and Janus and the relationship between them and how he is supposed to keep them both close when their enmity is so strong.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, wow, uh. That’s really good to hear.” His words stumble over each other, but the smile that softens his tone is completely genuine, and he hopes that Virgil picks up on that. “I’m proud of you.”

Virgil jerks, his eyes widening. Under his foundation, his cheeks flush red.

“Cool,” he says. “Um, thanks. Whatever.” He salutes, his typical two-fingered motion landing just shy of casual, and he sinks out from the chair, leaving Thomas alone at the table.

Well. Not truly alone. When is he ever? Just because he can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t present, doesn’t make them any less a part of him.

He breathes deeply, in and out, and feels more balanced than he has for a long time.

-------------

He gives it a day. A day to rest, a day to formulate a vague plan of how to go about this, of what to say. Though he now feels secure in this course of action, knows that this conversation needs to happen, he is still nervous about stepping wrongly. Janus has a temper, and more defenses than a temple from Indiana Jones, and if this meeting goes off the rails, he isn’t sure how to salvage it. Better to try to keep it running smoothly from the very beginning.

He wishes he were more confident in his ability to do that.

He sits on the couch, tries to get comfortable. His heart is beating quickly, though just as much from anticipation as from nervousness. He inhales deeply, and then stretches out his arm, motioning like he’s trying to raise someone from the floor.

“Janus?” he calls out, and stops to wait.

And then, he is there, stepping smoothly from the shadows. It’s totally unlike the way the others rise up, but it’s not like how Virgil does it, either. Virgil appears suddenly, like every jump scare in every horror movie, quick and forceful and undeniable. But Janus strides forward as if he was there all along, and something in Thomas’ mind insists that he was, that he has been there this whole time, even though he knows very well that he only just arrived.

“Thomas,” he says, voice level and collected. Looking at him now, it is difficult to believe that he was ever injured, that Thomas has seen him bleeding and shaking, that Thomas has felt him cling to him in his sleep. He appears nothing less than completely put together, gloves immaculate and hat perfectly balanced, and just for a moment, Thomas loses his nerve.

But just for a moment, and that is all.

“Hey, Janus,” he says, projecting as much confidence as he can muster. “Do you have a minute?”

Janus lifts an eyebrow, and the set of his eyes shifts, just slightly. He wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t watching, but there is a flash of— something. Dread, perhaps, though he can’t be sure, and whatever it is, it doesn’t show in his voice.

“I suppose,” he says, somehow managing to sound both agreeable and incredibly put upon, “though I am terribly busy, you know. I can’t imagine why you would assume I’d make time for you.”

As always, it takes mental gymnastics to figure out which parts he means and which parts are sarcasm, but Thomas tries not to dwell too much. He pats the couch next to him, gesturing for him to sit, and after a second of hesitation, Janus does, sinking into the cushion with a fluid, graceful motion, crossing one leg over the other. For all the world, he appears completely at ease, but Thomas isn’t convinced that’s the case. There is something in the tilt of his head, the tension in his hands, that suggests discomfort.

He hopes it’s just discomfort, and not anything stronger than that.

“Okay, well,” he says. “I’m glad you could.” He pauses, trying to figure out if there’s a delicate way to start this, but he thinks that Janus would see right through any attempt at prevarication on his part. So he soldiers ahead, bracing for the fallout, whatever that may be. “I’d like to talk to you about the snake thing that you do.”

Janus blinks, lifting his chin slightly, and Thomas can’t help but wonder if it’s a conscious decision for him. Blinking, that is. Snakes don’t blink, after all, so does that translate to his human form? Does he choose to blink? Does he have to think about it?

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that,” Janus says coolly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m at least partially a snake at all times, so you’ll have to tell me which ‘snake thing,’ exactly, you’re referring to.”

He sighs. “I think you know,” he says.

Janus’ shoulders stiffen minutely.

“And what about it?” he asks. “I don’t see what there is to discuss. Unless this is you asking me to stop.”

He sounds defensive, far more so than Thomas would like him to be so early in the conversation, and he struggles to quash his alarm.

“No, I’m not asking you to stop. Definitely not,” he says, meeting Janus’ eyes squarely. “I’m happy to spend time with you, Janus. And if you’re a snake during that time, then that’s completely fine. But I wanted to ask you why, I guess.” He hesitates, but Janus doesn’t interrupt, just continues to study him with wary eyes. “I mean, at first I just thought you wanted to get warm. And that’s cool! I’m one hundred percent cool with that! But the thing is, I’m pretty sure that there are other ways you could do that, if you wanted. So, I wanted to see if maybe there was another reason.”

Janus looks away at that, a scowl twisting his lips.

“Snakes are cold-blooded,” he says, his words short and clipped. “You’re a convenient source of heat, that’s all.”

Thomas has never been so sure that Janus is lying in all his life.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m not gonna push you to tell me. Not if you don’t want to. But if you do want to, you can. I really would like to know.”

And because the moment seems to call for it, he gently reaches out and places a hand on Janus’ arm. Janus’ eyes widen, and he tenses, but makes no move to pull away, so after a moment of indecision, wondering whether this touch is welcome or not, Thomas maintains the contact. After a second or two, Janus turns his head toward him again, eyes flitting back and forth between his hand and his face, and his expression is unreadable, but Thomas is fairly sure that some kind of emotion is trying to make itself known, though he can’t be sure exactly what it is. Shock, perhaps, but he doesn’t think he’s said anything too shocking, unless—

He remembers that day, Janus bleeding all over his bathroom sink, and the fading look of surprise on his face when Thomas told him that he wanted to take care of him.

And he wonders: does Janus know he can have this?

He tries to recall whether he’s ever touched Janus as a human. Besides that one incident, he doesn’t think he has. Even when he placed Janus in his own bed and sat next to him, he put distance between them, a gap that was only closed after they both fell asleep. And in the morning, Janus was gone, almost as if he was fleeing the scene, and Thomas thought it was because he was embarrassed, but what if that’s not all of it?

What if he was worried about how Thomas would react?

“Janus,” he says slowly, “you do know that I enjoy your company, right? And not just when you’re a snake. When you’re human-shaped, too.”

“Of course,” Janus says, but it’s too quick, too shaky for Thomas to even begin to believe him.

“I’m serious,” he presses. “Is that… is that why you only hang out with me when you’re a snake? Did you think I wouldn’t want to otherwise?”

Janus glances away again. “Right, because you’d definitely understand,” he mutters, and Thomas makes a negating gesture with his free hand.

“Then why don’t you help me understand?” he asks, somewhat desperately.

Janus stays quiet for a long minute, and as the silence stretches on, he fears that he’s messed it all up, somehow, that he had this one chance to connect and he blew it, made a mistake somewhere without realizing, and Janus is about to reject him and sink out and he will never have this opportunity again—

“You do realize what you’re asking of me?” Janus says softly. He still doesn’t look at Thomas. Thomas wishes he would. “An honest conversation isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

“That’s okay,” Thomas says, and Janus closes his eyes and nods. Once, sharply, almost as if to himself.

“It is about warmth,” he says. “At least partially. I’m not sure why your mind decided to assign me scientifically accurate snake traits, but—” He shrugs— “I’m more than used to it by now. I… never really needed to come up here, though. I have heating lamps of my own, and if that doesn’t suit, I can usually find a warm spot in the Imagination. But, that first day, the mindscape seemed so crowded, like I couldn’t find a moment’s peace. So I decided to try up here instead. I told myself that if you spotted me, I would leave.”

“But I did,” Thomas says. “And you didn’t.”

“I was dozing. You caught me off guard, and then… to be frank, I didn’t expect you to let me stay,” Janus admits, and Thomas feels a pang at the confirmation. “But then you did, so I kept doing it, and it became a routine.”

He nods. So far, there have been no surprises. He remembers all of this very well.

“And then there was that rainy day,” he prompts, and Janus winces slightly, his eyes sliding back open, staring out into the living room, unfocused.

“Yes,” he agrees, whisper-soft, and Thomas leans forward to hear him better. “I knew it was foolish of me to stay here when I could have just as easily gone to my room and been warm there. But I didn’t want to.”

The last sentence carries the weight of a confession.

“Why is that?” Thomas asks. He barely dares to let the words pass his lips. Even now, when Janus is clearly trying to open up to him, he is still scared of saying the wrong thing, of making him clam up again, pull away.

Slowly, Janus uncrosses his legs, letting his hands splay out against his legs. For a moment, Thomas’ eyes are drawn to the contrast, yellow on black.

“I—” Janus pauses, his expression pinched. He shakes his head. “In the mindscape, it’s somewhat difficult to ensure a moment of solitude. It’s quieter up here, and even besides, that, I—” He cuts off suddenly, a violent shiver running through him, so intense that it almost seems like a convulsion.

“You?” Thomas prompts, trying not to show his worry. But Janus refuses to reply, and as Thomas watches, he slowly brings a hand up to cover his own mouth, an unsettling parody of when he silenced the others. And something in Thomas’ heart breaks to see it, to see this, to see the way Janus retreats into himself, the way he presses his hand against his face as if trying to hold back a flood.

The posture reminds him of something. The posture reminds him of Virgil. Of Virgil, anxious and afraid of judgment, and Thomas never really expected that from Janus, but he remembers thinking, way back when this first started, about how Janus and Virgil are alike. And that thought gives him the courage to continue, because he knows how to get through to Virgil when he gets lost in his head, so maybe he can get through to Janus, too.

So, he reaches out. One hand still rests on Janus’ arm, but he gently curls the other around Janus’ wrist, though he doesn’t try to pull his hand from his face, not yet.

“You don’t need to do that,” he says. “You can tell me. I swear, I won’t betray your trust.”

Janus’ face spasms, and gently, Thomas guides the hand down from his jaw. The skin around his mouth is red from the force of his grip, except for where the scales glitter, and his lips are drawn into a thin line, pressed together tightly. But there is something shining in his eyes, something that Thomas can’t interpret.

“Won’t you?” Janus asks. It should be a challenge, but it isn’t, not quite, because it’s not nearly aggressive enough for that, not nearly as aggressive as it was probably intended to be. There is a quietness in the words, a sort of defeat, and all of that is mixed with an odd desperation, like Janus thinks he knows the answer but wants to hear it anyway. “You hardly have a reason not to.”

Thomas is beginning to wonder if they’re having the same conversation here.

“No,” he says. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I do have a reason not to, and that reason is that I care about you.” He wants to scrub a hand down his face, to let a bit of his frustration show, but doing so would mean letting go of Janus, either his arm or his hand, and he doesn’t want to do that yet. “Look, I get that trust is hard. And I’m not asking for anything that I haven’t earned. But what I do earn, I’m not going to abuse. I promise you, Janus.”

Janus shudders at the sound of his name.

“Can you promise that?” he asks.

And Thomas does the only thing he can think to do and draws him in for a hug.

“Yes,” he says, resting his chin on Janus’ shoulder. “Yes, I can promise that.”

Janus freezes up, and for a moment, it’s like hugging a stone statue. But Thomas holds him close, so close that he can feel his heartbeat beneath all his layers, beating rabbit-quick and scared, and he doesn’t let him go, and incrementally slowly, Janus melts into his embrace, inch by inch, as if he’s fighting it, fighting himself.

“It’s about safety,” he murmurs, and Thomas has to strain to hear him. “I feel safe, with you.”

“I’m glad,” he replies, and hopes that Janus can hear just how much he means it. “I’m really glad. But why do you feel like you have to hide that?”

Janus doesn’t answer, but Thomas thinks he can guess. Virgil’s voice still rings in his ears, reminding him of how long he’s pushed the dark sides away, how long it has taken for him to acknowledge them as parts of him at all, much less important parts, parts deserving of respect in their own right. Really, what reason does Janus have to assume that Thomas won’t hurt him, won’t shove him to the side, back down into the dark? Why would Janus discard his caution in favor of trust when it has taken so very long for Thomas to be receptive to him at all?

Janus conceals so much, all the time. It’s a part of his function. So how can Thomas possibly expect him to admit what he truly wants?

“It frightens me,” Janus whispers suddenly, and Thomas pulls his attention back to the present, startled. “I never allow myself to trust anyone, and yet… I want to be close to you. I always have, I suppose, but I never really expected it to be possible. I never expected it to be a problem—”

“Whoa, hey, no,” Thomas says, because he definitely needs to cut off that line of thinking right away. He pulls away from Janus, gripping him by both shoulders and holding him in front of him so he can make eye contact. “Your feelings aren’t a problem. You feeling safe isn’t a problem, and it never will be, you hear? The only thing that’s a problem is that I refused to accept you for so long, and I’m trying to fix that now. But that’s not your fault.”

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. When he speaks again, he keeps his voice low and measured and as sincere as possible, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Janus’ face.

“I know we don’t know each other that well,” he says. “I know there’s a lot about you that I don’t understand. But I’ve really liked spending time with you these past couple months, and not because you’re a snake. You don’t need to be a snake to spend time with me. You’re not intruding, or, or bothering me, or whatever. I want to hang out with you, no matter what shape you’re in.” He smiles wryly. “Really, the only reason I didn’t say so sooner was because I wasn’t sure what was going on, or if maybe you actually didn’t want to be around when you’re, uh, human-shaped. But, Janus, I really mean it. I want to get to know you better. I want to be friends. There’s no conditions attached to that.”

He pauses.

“You’re always welcome to be close to me,” he says. “Always.”

They stay like that for a moment, like time has frozen around them, frozen this moment, and Thomas scarcely dares to breathe. Either this was the right thing to say, or it wasn’t, and he can only hope for the former and not the latter, because there is no taking it back. He’s spoken his mind and his heart with nothing less than complete sincerity, and he couldn’t renege on that even if he wanted to.

Janus makes a choked noise, and then, with one gloved hand, reaches out and snags Thomas’ shirt. And he pulls himself close, tucking himself against Thomas’ chest, burying his face into his shirt. His hat slides off his head and to the ground, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care if he does. His shoulders are shaking, and Thomas can feel the growing dampness of the fabric against his skin, but he doesn’t say anything, because he’s said all that needs to be said. He knows it, and he thinks that Janus knows it, and he hopes that now, Janus will finally, finally be able to believe him.

So Thomas just wraps his arms around him, and holds him steady.

------------

It’s movie night. It’s movie night, and Thomas is feeling good, great, even, because there are no pressing deadlines or moral crises, and he’s making popcorn in the kitchen, a soft blanket draped over his shoulders while he listens to everyone affably bicker in the living room. And that’s what it is: bickering, not arguing, not fighting. Roman is advocating for Disney, surprise surprise, while Virgil is groaning about how “that’s literally all you ever want to watch,” and Patton is chiming in with a desire to watch something with animals, anything really, he’s not all that picky, and Thomas can’t help but smile as he walks in to join them.

Logan is the only one not particularly invested in the conversation, and he greets him with a nod. Thomas hands him the popcorn bowl, trusting him not to make a mess of it, and settles against his side. The others pile in in short order, Patton on the floor and leaning against his legs, Virgil tucked into his other side, and Roman dramatically splaying himself out along the rest of the couch and putting his head in Virgil’s lap.

Remus is here too, behind the couch. Thomas has told him that he’s free to join in if he puts some clothes on, and though Remus swiftly turned him down, there was an odd gleam in his eye that told Thomas to expect a change in the future.

“Was Janus going to join us?” Logan asks, voice barely audible over the sound of the others’ discussion, which has continued uninterrupted, entirely too intense for something as simple as picking a movie to watch.

Thomas grins at him, and lifts the blanket so he can see Janus, draped across his shoulders. Janus lifts his head and flickers his tongue out at Logan, but makes no move to leave or hide. Virgil glances over briefly and frowns, but doesn’t comment, giving Thomas a short nod.

“The Lion King it is!” Roman bursts out, and Thomas settles in.

They watch The Lion King, and when that’s done, Virgil insists on Hocus Pocus, and it’s getting late after that, but Patton quietly asks for Princess and the Frog, and even though Thomas can tell that everyone is close to nodding off, he puts the disk in and lets it play. His own eyelids are drooping before Tiana even meets Naveen, and he is close to falling asleep before Janus begins to shift in place, rousing him a bit.

And suddenly, Janus is in his lap, human-shaped, snuggling up against his chest with a sigh of contentment. Thomas adjusts automatically, shuffling so that everyone can stay comfortable. Virgil mutters something along the lines of, “Get your damn snaky elbow out of my face,” but his sleepiness undercuts any venom the words might have.

“You good, buddy?” Thomas murmurs, too tired to say much of anything else.

Janus hums, taking off his hat and casting it to the ground before tucking his head under Thomas’ chin.

“Shhhhut up and go to ssssleep,” he slurs, and Thomas smiles.

Besides the movie still playing on-screen, the living room is dark. But before Thomas closes his eyes, he thinks he sees Remus staring at him, thinks he inclines his head in… what, approval? And then he is gone, and Thomas doesn’t think too much more about it.

Because he has Janus, and he has all the rest of his sides here, gathered around him, at peace, and all is well with the world.

-------------

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#sanders sides #ts sides #platonic thomceit #character!thomas #janus sanders #ts janus #logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil #my fic #long post #that's a wrap folks!

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elriell · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Two—

[Chapter 1]

In The Absence of Light

Restless sleep continued to plague her the following nights, just as she had feared the cold spikes of anxiety that crippled her mind refused to ease up their battle for control.

Azriel never mentioned their tense early morning encounter, but she could not deny that after his departure she had finally managed to succumb to a few good hours of rest, and for that she was grateful. She put it down to simply feeling calmer after seeing a friend and refused to look any further in to why that would be.

So, when Elain saw him over breakfast, she offered him a genuine smile and accepted the muffin he silently offered her in return. She tried not to dwell on the fact that he did not in truth look as if he had been blessed with a good sleep, as she had.

Several nights had passed since then and time trickled by slowly, each night she found herself staring up at the ceiling, tossing and turning among the expensive linens, unable to settle down. Vivid dreams swirled around in her head; the same thoughts as always, they appeared to be taking up permanent residency, she was less than pleased with that realization.

Every noise poked at her subconscious, taunting her mockingly. She let out a sigh at the ridiculousness of her thoughts, as if the branches crashing in the wind could possibly be trying to ridicule her, she truly was losing it alltogether. Taking a deep breath, she gave up on her quest for sleep and slid her feet in the soft pair of slippers and set off for the kitchen, doing her best not to awake anyone on her path, though she doubted she would, everyone in this house seemed to sleep through most her terrors.

Lost in her own scattered thoughts she barely saw him lent over, in truth he looked as though he too was in his own world. Strong powerful arms flexed over the sink as he gazed out the window in to the gardens below. The dark leathery wings hung limply behind him, he painted quite the sorrowful picture, moonlight casting down upon him.

A fallen angel, infinitely beautiful and untouchable in an heartbreaking way.

“Trouble sleeping?” His honey voice caught her off guard, she really had to stop being surprised when it came to the shadow-singer, his instincts were sharp as the thorns that she tried to avoid when gardening.

“Seems to be going around these days.” A soft shrug. “I was just going to make myself something warm, would you join me?”

He turned towards her at that and it struck her as it always did how easily he concealed his emotions, as if he could carefully tuck them away in a box and forget about them. His eyes however spoke volumes, they were devastating to her mental resolve, a crack splintering straight to her heart.

“I would like that very much.” Agreeing gently.

Elain willed herself to focus on the task at hand; warming up some milk for the both of them. She felt more than heard him shuffle amongst the kitchen retrieving mugs and placing them to her left, returning to his former place. “Thank you for the other night— No, no, no... Please don't stop me, I want to, no I need to. I haven’t gotten that much sleep-in months, so thank you.”

A small blush crept up his face much to her quiet delight, it was such a rarity to pierce his stoic exterior.

She poured them both a cup each and set out to retrieve some cookies from a jar she had baked earlier in the day, once she had set a sufficient amount on a plate, she joined Azriel at the small breakfast table at the far end of the room.

Though dark out it was a beautiful spot, the whole side of the wall was built from different shades of stained glass and under the moonlight it shone a messy pattern of colors across the cobblestone floor, it had quite easily become one of her favorite places once her nightmares began. A colorful sanctuary to be at ease.

There were so many questions on the tip of her tongue, she wondered so much about him, about his troubles, his travels, about Nesta, who she had not received any letters from since her departure though that was no surprise all things considered. She wished she could tell her she had not known of the plans, wished she could have at least said goodbye, god, she wished for so many things.

Perhaps she would ask Azriel to take her on his next visit to the mountains, she filed that away for another day.

“I suppose the tonic didn't work then?” He inquired before dunking a cookie in to his mug.

“Ah—” Hesitating for a beat too long. “It's alright you needn't lie to me; your secrets are your own. If you do not wish to say I shall not bring it up again.” He jumped in before she finished.

Truth. She knew without a doubt he would not push her, would accept whatever she was willing to give.

“That is quite alright, to be honest with you Azriel, I am not sure I quite know myself.” She considered it carefully. “I think deep down, beneath every excuse, I just, well I just don’t want to be...”

“Medicated.” He finished for her.

It should not surprise her after all this time, he was always able to read her seamlessly and understand her completely even when she wasn’t sure she understood herself. He was able to deduce that she was a Seer when the rest thought she was going mad, even her own mate, scoffing internally at the word. It was a shame, she supposed, that it had nothing to do with Lucien. He was a good enough man but she simply couldn’t handle the burden that such a bond posed after the events of last year.

“Exactly.”

He was uncharacteristically sheepish when he asked, “It’s not my place, but is something wrong? Lucien?” He stumbled over the last word as if he found it hard to roll off his tongue. Odd. Azriel rarely if ever spoke on the subject of the former spring court emissary, almost seemed to avoid it at all costs.

Upon reflection she could not think of one time through their many conversations that he had ever inquired about him if she had not started the discussion.

It was eery some days, it was as though he could see inside her soul, study her like a well-read book.

And if she was following that analogy through then she was certainly an old nattered forgotten book that was far too damaged to be of much value... She heard Nesta’s voice as the thought formed scolding her for thinking that any book would not hold its own important value in the world.

“No.” She replied honestly. “I am not quite sure what is fuelling my problems only that they are rather determined at keeping me from a peaceful sleep. But enough about that, let us talk about better things, happier things, tell me about your favorite places to...”

And so, they would spend several hours hunched over the table talking in hushed tones about everything and nothing at all, refilling their mugs repeatedly as time faded away and all that remained was the moments within, the coloured light streaming over them bathing them in a pool of colours steadily shifting as the sun rose, not that either noticed until household staff awoke to prepare for the day.

And when she returned to her bedchamber, she would not care on bit that she was still on the brink of exhaustion.

They developed quite a habit of it unexpectedly. At one point or another in the night when her sleep or lack there of, became too much to bare, she would wander down to the kitchen where inevitably he would be sat as if waiting for her.

She tried not to be so self-absorbed as to think it was solely because of her. But after the first few times happened and it became a reoccurring pattern, warm milk always lay on the table waiting for her, always warm, almost as if he could sense when she would arrive despite it changing most nights.

It did not help her ever growing endearment to him.

Although she knew Azriel would eventually grow bored of this habit they had formed, perhaps conversation would become tiresome to maintain for him but she promised to enjoy his company while it lasted.

He made her happy and the small private moments she would cherish among the bland parts of her day, though it wasn’t particularly healthy for either of them as it meant neither was sleeping much.

But it was a worthy sacrifice, all considered she was not sleeping before therefore she was not losing anything, however she did feel a twinge of guilt for the shadow-singer. Hoped it would not interfere with his day-to-day activities and not put him at greater risk whilst following out orders.

But alas all good things must come to an end and last night would mark that for them both.

He had been uncharacteristically quiet all night, simply letting her ramble on about the new plans for opening up the back garden to prepare it for new flowers and wildlife, he had simply watched her for hours with a gentle “Mmm” and “Of course” along the way, in hindsight she should have guessed something was coming.

He arose from the bench first keeping his eyes locked to the ground, and fiddling with the lapels of his jacket seemingly trying to buy time, while the silence hung heavy in the air.

“It seems there has been some problems arising in the northern territories and Rhys has asked that I head out for a few days to ensure it is nothing more serious.” Shifting his feet back and forth still reluctant to make eye contact.

“I see.” She really didn’t. “When are you to leave?”

The grimace was noticeable on his controlled face, “An hour ago. Give or take.”

He did not give her time to respond as he leaned over her, closer than they had been to each other in some time and he smelled like the woods after a rainfall if that could be a smell at all, fresh yet masculine. The kiss he planted on her forehead was so gentle had she not had her eyes open she scarcely would have felt it.

Her lids fell and her breathing changed, and she wondered if one could feel as if their heart both stopped and raced at the same time, she was losing all sense of reason and by the time she regained her thoughts enough to open her eyes he was gone.

His absence hit her quickly and she had to take a deep breath to hold back the tear stinging her eye, yet again she was left to her own devices. Perhaps it for the best that she not grow too reliant on his company, though she was infinitely grateful for his friendship and companionship she did not want him to feel burdened by her.

This would give them some much needed separation and time to rebuild her mental walls and form some boundaries for herself.

The first night was not as bad as she expected and she tried to be optimistic that this was a new leaf for her.

Unfortunately, as she well knew nothing lasts for long, especially something good. Not for her. By the fourth night the dark void had returned in full to cause chaos on her mind, and so chaos spread, worsening night after night.

Elaine’s nightly visits to the kitchen had not ceased they simply became a solitary adventure and as the week reached its end, she was near desperate for the relief of her favorite companion would provide.

Having overheard Mor speaking to Feyre in the lounge she was able to confirm that he had returned to the estate sometime midday, though his meetings with his High Lord kept him out of sight much to her disappointment.

She did her best to tame the growing excitement that bubbled up when she thought about his return.

Tonight, for a change she made no attempts to sleep simply busied herself with brushing out her curls and spraying her favorite perfume, feeling silly for going to such efforts. Truthfully though she knew that beneath whatever crush she had formed it had little to do with her attachment to him, it was his companionship and friendship she coveted most, he was a true and loyal friend, a rare thing to her these days.

She made a promise to herself not mare it with her growing attraction. She refused to lose another person she cared about.

Which is why when she finally made it down to the kitchen after holding off as long as possible only to be greeted by an empty room, she felt her heart twinge. Feeling silly for simply assuming he would be there, for not even questioning it. Not that she blamed him, the kinder part of her hoped he was getting a descent nights rest again, refusing to think on it for long she made herself warm cocoa and set off for bed.

Unsurprisingly sleep did not come easy to her but at least on this night it was not the terrible evil that plagued her, rather the piercing eyes of her favorite spy.

As the hours ticked on and she grew more restless her body wrenched itself out of bed as if on its own accord, and paced a way across their home, it was as she reached the West Wing she realized where she had unconsciously ended up. It was not hard through process of elimination to work out which was his, no light shone beyond the door and no detectable sound either, though she doubted she would know if he was moving about.

It was silly to have come all this way and she was well aware of how embarrassing her need to visit him was but as she stood with only a large oak door separating them, she understood exactly why she had come, because in that moment she finally felt calmer than she had all week, the anxiety that weaved its way through her reseeded slowly.

She figured that it couldn’t hurt to stay for a few moments to calm down a little more before venturing back, it would not hurt anyone what they did not know.

Unaware of when it happened, she found herself sliding down against the door until her bottom hit the cold cobblestones, it was a rather strange feeling that simply being in proximity to him would bring her such small comforts but so was the case as she felt exhaustion slowly creep over and when it came, she felt safe enough to let it take her, she closed her eyes and drifted away.

Pheeeeew, That was long and still a little sad but i promise it is going to get less DEPRESSING™️ I just want to lay the groundwork for what is going to happen 😉 I would love any and all critique as always, it is what fuels me!

Also i was almost finished writing the chapter but the title and colourful glass is inspired by the book I am re-reading with that name.

As always anyone who wants to be added or removed just let me know 🖤

@elriel-oblivion @elriel-incorrect-quotes @tswaney17 @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @stars-falling @verifiefangirl @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @julemmaes @thefangirlofhp @empress-ofbloodshed @elrielllll @abraxos-is-toothless @julesherondalex @courtofjurdan @amitynotpity @libraryonthepond @mis-lil-red

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elriel ff #elriel fanfic #fanfic #mine #myff #myelriel #myelrielfic

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spicysoftsweet · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 13

Masterlist

cw: nsfw, timeskip

“Mmm.”

A soft moan of pleasure left Kumi’s lips as she continued to roll her hips slowly, a smile on her face as she leaned forward, letting her palms glide up her partner’s chest. His eyes seemed to glaze over with lust still as he looked upon her breasts, and she giggled.

It truly was nice to be with someone who definitely loved you more than you loved them, she thought fleetingly, then attempted to banish the idea from her own mind.

Perhaps it was an unkind thought. She liked the guy she was currently riding enough; Seiichi was nice to look at with heavy-lidded eyes, shaggy dirty blonde hair and an easy going smile, and he had been attentive and caring to her through these last couple of years as they futzed through medical school together.

At graduation just a couple weeks ago, he’d asked her how she felt about the two of them becoming official and she’d avoided the question, and he’d known better not to bring it up again. Kumi considered that he’d perhaps ask again now, now that she was hovering above him and his hands pressed firmly around her waist and she could feel her stomach coil tighter and tighter the longer they moved together.

He didn’t just like her more, he liked her too much for her comfort, she’d realized.

“Kumi, I-” he began, cheeks flushed, but then she’d cut him off abruptly.

“I’m moving back to Tokyo-” she blurted out, right before she felt herself snap and let out a strangled cry as she climaxed and promptly collapsed onto him. She could barely see his look of distress as he took in this sudden news, his cock softening inside her almost immediately, but she could feel the quickening pace of his heart.

It was an asshole move.

“You’re what?” He asked.

Kumi shifted her legs as he slipped out of her, then rolled over to the side so that she was staring at the ceiling and not at him.

“I’m leaving this weekend,” she repeated, cheeks still warm as she recovered from her orgasm. The pensive, slightly amused look on her face was unchanging, as though she had simply told him about a funny dream she’d had, and Seiichi, who had thought he was making some progress all these years realized all at once that he’d never even cracked the surface of her frozen heart. The idea of him having wasted his time so thoroughly aggravated him suddenly.

“Were you ever going to fucking say anything?” He hissed. “Or did it just hit you spur of the moment to say something like this?”

She turned towards him, noting his now red-faced and angry expression, and placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it softly. There was something akin to pity in her look, but not love.

“I didn’t think it was important,” she replied simply.

She could have left it at that, and Seiichi may have calmed down and even considered bargaining with her - trips back and forth maybe, a vacation here or there, she just had to tell him that she still wanted him, in some capacity, and it would still be alright.

“You are important to me,” he said and attempted to mirror her action, but frowning, Kumi moved backwards and quickly made her way off the bed, redressing herself.

He watched her with anticipation, anxiety choking the words in his throat as she got ready to leave.

After an unnecessarily silent period of time, she turned to him and smiled widely, something unnatural and painful and flat all at once.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way.”

---

“Why did you decide to become a doctor?”

Kumi hated this question every single time it was asked. The truest answer was when my middle school boyfriend died in a gang fight in front of me, mostly due to self-inflicted injury that could have been preventable if only I had the skills, but it wasn’t exactly the answer that earned her points with anyone. If anything, it only invited more unnecessary questions.

Instead, she offered something generic like, “I’ve always had a passion to take care of others and found that I was interested in the science of the human body and thus pursued my passion in this way.” It was sufficiently true, she figured, even if it wasn’t as exciting a reason.

The interviewer seemed to be impressed enough with the lackluster response, as she expected. Her grades were excellent, after all, so this interview was somewhat of a formality. The only thing that worried her was whether or not she was ready to move back to Tokyo for residency, and decided after very brief contemplation that she was.

It had been so many years since that event had happened, after all. She couldn’t possibly still be hung up on the past.

People died all the time; years of medical school had taught her this. She could prevent some death but not all.

When she’d received the residency position, she was excited as the program was top rated in the country for emergency medicine training, but then recalled that she likely had no one left in Tokyo. Her parents had long since moved to the United States permanently along with her grandmother who had taken her in charge up until she’d started college, and her brother, many years older, lived on the other end of the country. They weren’t close, even if she had wanted to be.

She had no one left. She’d even briefly wondered if she could bring Seiichi with her, and realized it would be too cruel to use him in this way. Seiichi would remain in their city, pursuing specialization in pediatrics, so his goals and her goals wouldn’t be compatible anyway.

Why Tokyo?

Her mother hated even the idea of moving back there, and she’d had to reassure her repeatedly that more than ten years had passed, so there was no way she’d return to that dark place she’d been in the latter fourteenth and entire fifteenth year of her life.

“Are you sure?” Her mother pressed.

“Yes, mom,” she reassured her. “I won’t even be living on the same side of the city.”

And I’m past it, she thought.

With that, she moved to a small apartment in Tokyo alone on a Saturday morning and started her first day of work as a newly minted doctor that very Monday.

The first day was busy and the emergency department was as busy and as hectic as she should have expected being in a major city, but she survived after putting in her hours, clocking out sometime between 13 to 15 hours after the beginning of her shift, exhausted and with no one to go home to. As she sat on the train, trying not to let her tired eyes glaze over, she downloaded a dating app, swiped left and right on a couple of strange faces then sighed loudly.

It was a dumb idea to meet men if she was going to have no one to call in case of an emergency.

Kumi made it to her new home, hopping into the shower, and changing into soft shorts and a pajama shirt immediately before preparing some instant noodles for dinner. She made a mental note to buy some real groceries sometime this weekend. She then quickly texted a message to her parents to tell them her first day had gone well.

She would be fine.

As she ate her meal in silence, her mind flitted to Kaksi for a moment. She wondered how she was doing. Should she contact her? They hadn’t spoken in over a decade. Did she miss her? Was she even still in this city?

She finished her meal and shook off the thought of digging up past relationships. She wouldn’t want to burrow too deeply and be hurt by what she found.

---

Kaksi rested the ends of her chopsticks on the dark blue and white hashioki in front of her. Then her brown eyes wandered outside, enjoying Tokyo’s skyline through the large glass windows of the private room she shared with her friend. Blue eyes studied her features quietly, while slender fingers brought the white chopsticks to rosy lips.

“Did you not like the food?”

“Oh, I did,” Kaksi replied in a soft voice. “I’m just not very hungry.”

Senju didn’t say anything for a moment. By now she had memorised all of Kaksi’s habits, which made it usually easy for her to pick up on her emotions and thoughts.

“Are you nervous?” she asked before taking a sip of her drink.

Kaksi smiled.

“I guess I am.”

Was this moment shared together their goodbye? As much as Senju preferred not to dwell on the future, she couldn’t ignore the inevitable change that Kazutora’s return would bring into her life. She had made a mistake, growing too comfortable treating Kaksi like she was hers when she was someone else’s all along.

Senju had never met Manjiro Sano despite the similar lifestyle they shared but back when Kaksi would still talk about him, she compared them a lot. Brahman’s leader used to believe she was nothing like him, the idea of ever leaving Kaksi behind unthinkable to her but now she wondered if the reason behind their fall out wasn’t just Mikey trying to spare his own feelings, something Senju failed to do by falling for her best friend.

She had been foolish to think Kaksi would fail to keep her promise. While they had shared more kisses that they could both count and uncovered the secrets to each other’s body in between almost forbidden confessions, Senju still wasn’t the one Kaksi wished to have by her side, or maybe she did. It had felt like she did so many times and it still felt that way as they walked out of the expensive restaurant too close to each other.

Kaksi’s hands were always so cold but Senju liked to warm them up. Tonight however the brunette wouldn’t let her like she had been doing for the past months. Senju was being selfish again, she knew. Kaksi couldn’t say no, not to her, not when she would give her those pleading blue eyes or slide her hand around her waist.

“Sen,” she said, irritated and distancing herself from her best friend.

But this time she had to say no.

“I don’t think I can do it, Kaksi.”

Kazutora would be out of jail in a few days and Kaksi had already planned out a future for them, one that she had desired ever since they had promised to never leave each other’s side back when they were children. It was unfair that she couldn’t preserve what she had built for the past years but if it wasn’t her then who would watch out for Kazutora? There was an obligation Kaksi felt to him, one that she felt like she could never get rid of but this was also what she wanted.

“I don’t think he would be happy in Tokyo,” she told her.

Senju rolled her eyes at her answer. Why was it that Kaksi always had to make her life revolve around him?

“Aren’t you happy in Tokyo?” she asked, voice louder as her irritation grew.

“I need a change of air.”

“Do you need a change of air or do you think Kazutora needs one?” Senju replied. “Because those are two very different things.”

“I think we do.”

Senju stayed quiet for a moment. She wondered if Kaksi could see that what she felt was beyond jealousy. If Kaksi didn’t want to stay by her side that was fine by her, as painful as it was but she wished her best friend would choose herself instead of someone else sometimes.

“You know, you can’t make decisions for others, Kaksi,” Senju reminded her. “You can only make decisions for yourself.”

Kaksi chuckled but it was irritation that she felt.

“This is not how I want things to end between us before I leave for Osaka,” Kaksi told her.

Then you could just stay, at least.

“I don’t think there is any other way for it to end,” Senju admitted, her blue eyes not hiding a sadness she had been containing for too long.

Kaksi fell silent, not sure about what she could say if this was really how they were meant to say goodbye to each other. Senju took a deep breath.

“I hope Kazutora and you enjoy Osaka,” she said with a genuine smile, contrasting with the disappointment and sadness she felt moments before.

But she meant those words. Maybe she was the one who didn’t get it, maybe this was what Kazutora desired and maybe this was something only Kaksi could offer and wanted to offer. There was nothing rational about feelings after all but even after experiencing all of those emotions, Senju couldn’t help thinking only a bit of madness could explain Kaksi’s behaviour sometimes.

If she did get it though. Then there was only one thing she needed Kaksi to remember even though she was choosing Kazutora right now and had planned to always do so.

“But if you don’t then come back to me in Tokyo.”

Kaksi’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of Senju’s smile. She couldn’t smile back but she nodded as she watched her walk away, in a direction she wouldn’t follow this time.

---

“You said you grew up in the city, right?” The girl situated beside Kumi asked, turning slightly in the booth of the bar. The man sitting directly across from her, who from the beginning of the gaokon had seemed to have set his sights on her, perked his ears up.

“I thought you were foreign!” he asked, and she flashed her most charming smile in response despite mild irritation, accepting a drink from her coworker as she spoke.

“Nope, I’ve been here since early childhood. Briefly moved just outside Kyoto in my teen years, but I guess technically Tokyo is my home,” she explained.

The young man before her nodded, leaning just close enough that she began to grow uncomfortable. She couldn’t tell if the man’s interest was related to an expectation that she’d put out more readily than the other women on this date, and just because of that, she was determined not to spend the night with him. Instead, she focused her attention on the girl behind her who was also desperately trying to avoid eye contact with another guy who had latched onto her.

This group blind date was a bust.

Kumi didn’t feel too bad about it, however. She would appreciate anything that allowed her not to think about work. An adolescent boy had come in earlier in the day with a stab wound, and despite the fact that this was not the first time she’d seen injured children or the sequela of gang violence, perhaps the fact that she was back in this city made it such that the event had unearthed some trauma. She found that her hands shook as she stabilized the teen and for a moment, she thought she had even seen a flash of Baji in that young boy and temporarily forgot how to breathe.

That couldn’t happen again.

She should be over it. She had to be.

“Would you like to meet again?” The man whose name she’d long since forgotten - Tadashi? Satoshi? - asked her at the close of the evening, when she’d made it sufficiently clear that she was just interested in going home.

She should have said no, but instead she politely exchanged phone numbers with him, fully intending to block him in three to five days.

But who knew when she’d be lonely again?

---

A week later, Kumi could get over the haunting visage of the young boy who looked everything and nothing like Baji, but she couldn’t get over the sudden talk of gang activity on the news she let play in the background while she reviewed medical publications.

A horrific truck accident, involving a young woman about her age, had taken the news by storm. Listening closer, she heard a name that sounded familiar but not recognizable.

Hinata Tachibana.

It felt like a name she should remember, but she figured they might have interacted before she had relocated for high school, and most of the things and people from before then were essentially blocked out of her memory.

But not the name Toman.

Kumi perked up, sipping onto her tea and folding her legs beneath her as she sat on the couch, finally setting her paper aside, now that the television had caught her interest. There were no real suspects, but the death was thought to be related to this group, as were a series of other random execution-like killings. Kumi took a look at the still image of the young woman’s face, eyes wide, noting that she definitely looked familiar to her, like she’d seen her at least once or twice a long time ago. She couldn’t imagine her having done anything wrong or any act that would anger someone enough to order her death.

Toman doesn’t kill. Toman doesn’t do real crime, she thought.

But times had changed, and maybe they did do real crime now. She wondered briefly if Mitsuya was still part of Toman. What had become of Mikey and Draken, and the rest?

Did Kaksi know what Toman had become over the years?

Kumi unconsciously reached for her phone beside her to call, then caught herself. She hesitated for a moment, letting the sudden wash of anxiety run through her, then shut off the television instead and returned to her reading.

Let sleeping dogs lie, she thought, and she spent the rest of her night, minding her own business, minding her future.

---

She wouldn’t have broken if not for her dream that night.

“Bambi, you don’t ever stop crying, do you?”

Kumi’s eyes jolted open at the sound of that voice, the mischievous laugh she remembered from her childhood, even if it was richer, an evolved version. It couldn’t be, could it?

But she was no longer in her room. Instead, she was somewhere warm and blindingly bright, where her eyes could barely adjust, and her body felt… lighter?

She rose to a sitting position, shielding her watering eyes from the light, only to be startled by a warm hand taking hers, interlacing their fingers.

“Kumi-chan, look.”

Her eyes opened again, and this time, rather than light unfocusing her, there was a man before her, with a face that was foreign yet oh-so-familiar, crouched down on one knee and still holding her hand gently.

Fangs grinned back at her, and she gasped.

“K-Kei..?”

Her voice came out no more than a squeak and suddenly in her heart she was fourteen again, and her lip started to quiver as she repeated his name again.

What did this mean? To be looking at him again, a him that was no longer dead just days before he turned fifteen, whose dark, wavy locks were even longer and whose face had aged just as much as hers, but with the same fox-like brown eyes that she’d fallen in love with a decade ago as part of a sharper angled, handsome face?

She repeated his name yet again, heart thumping and tears welling up in her eyes, and he cupped her face in her hands, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears.

He frowned.

“I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he said, a pensive look on his face. He sighed, and Kumi felt his lips press onto her forehead. Warm, soft lips that felt every bit as real as she did, and it only made her hurt more.

She was hallucinating. All of this was impossible, whatever this was.

So why did it feel so real?

“I miss you so much,” she choked out.

A decade had passed, and here she was. Conjuring up an image of Baji as he could have been if he had lived, something that may not be real. She wasn’t even sure he’d look like this - might he have cut his hair, or gotten his teeth fixed? How did she know what his voice would settle to be like in adulthood, and if this soothing baritone in her ears was anything close? How did she know he would grow to this height he now stood at, towering over her once he’d pulled her to her feet and pressed her head against his chest? How did she know what his arms would feel like wrapped around her? Would she actually have felt this safe and warm?

Would he have still cared for her, had he lived?

“I miss you too.”

She sobbed harder.

“How can you miss me when you’re dead?”

He paused, and let a hand stroke through her hair.

“Pretend.”

Almost shocked, she pulled back and looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He smiled sadly at her and shrugged.

“Pretend I’m still here with you. I’ll stay with you till morning comes,” he promised. "I can promise you at least this much.”

There’s a point where it’s easier to live in the delusion, and it was at this point, where Baji leaned in to kiss her, then embrace her in a way they never could in life. They drank deeply of each other throughout the night, connecting with each other physically and emotionally, and the young woman hoped that the cursed morning would never come, where she’d have to give up on this dream or vision or delusion or whatever the fuck it was, and return to reality.

But alas the dead cannot commune with the living forever.

Kumi woke up in a cold bed where Baji was no longer inside her or beside her or with her, and there was nothing that remained but messy bed sheets, dampness between her legs and unrelenting, fresh pain in her heart.

She brought her knees to her chest, and felt new anguish for the first time in years. Birds chirped outside her window to welcome the dawn and light seeped through her window, and on this cool Saturday morning, she had regressed to the same child curled up in blankets, encountering heartbreak for the first time.

Why?

Why couldn’t she get past this?

Her father had said it first. It’s just a boy.

And here she was, a grown woman, who no longer could love, hanging on desperately to a ghost.

Kumi’s phone alarm went off suddenly - she’d forgotten to turn it off - and she reached for her phone, her whole body shaking like a leaf. She was pathetic, despite the fact that she so desperately wanted to be strong.

And thus, the moment she quieted the alarm, she dialed the only person who could understand the pain she felt. Even if it was selfish. Even if it had been a decade.

She didn’t expect her to pick up, but she did.

“Kumi?”

The familiar sound of Kaksi’s voice made her want to weep in a different way. Relief rushing over a wave.

She sucked air into her lungs and smiled, warm, thankful tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Kaksi, I missed you so much.”

#baji x oc #kazutora x oc #tokyorev #off target effects #collab fic #mae.writing #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyo revengers #longfic

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skvaderarts · 3 years ago

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Hiraeth Chapter 63: Burdens

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Sixty-Three: Burdens.

Note: This chapter felt so good to write, omg! The feels! I just-

(-~-)

The soft glow of the refrigerator was the only light that he bothered to turn on in the dark kitchen. His eyesight was more than sufficient to be able to find a glass of water at this time of the morning. The sun would be up in about an hour and a half, and more than likely so would the rest of his family. And yet despite having slept for a few hours, he couldn't bring himself to really agree on whether or not he should stay up or go back to sleep.

It was indecisive times like these that made him wonder where his mind went during the wee hours of the morning. There was so much going on right now, and although he did have a lot going on in the deeper recesses of his mind, he couldn't say that it particularly troubled him. Nero knew deep down that they would get him out of the situation. V was in good hands. And yet there was something about the situation that just gave him pause.

Perhaps it was simply natural for him to worry about his older brother. V had a lot of things going on in his life, and a good majority of them weren't good. Even though he knew that they had the power to solve this issue, he still had to wonder how it would affect him in the long term. He couldn't imagine that it was good for him psychologically to have to deal with all of this, but he was a strong person, after all. In their own way, everyone in their family was. They just processed their issues differently. But he couldn't help but think that V was a standout example of this.

But even the strongest people have their moments of weakness, and there was only so much that a person could take. His quiet, mild-mannered sibling had been through far too much in such a short lifetime, and he couldn't imagine that any of that was good for him in the long term. But what could he do against such powerful enemies that would be meaningful on its own? He had the power to fight them, but that didn't solve the lasting problems that this could cause his older sibling. He needed to do something more personal for that. Perhaps even more meaningful.

"The only thing I can do is be there for you." The thought just sort of came to him as he poured his drink, closing the fridge after he put the water picture back into it. It was quite genuinely the only thing that he could do besides try to physically protect him. He didn't think that he was helpless. Far from it. But maybe it was best to just let him know that he was there? He had the feeling that given the rapport they developed he would tell him if he needed them, but every one of their family had a habit of shutting off their emotions at times and cutting off those who might best serve them in moments of need, so maybe it was best that he say something to him the next time they spoke.

As if on cue, the downstairs phone rang in the next room over, cutting a somewhat noisy swath to the otherwise quiet house. Nero practically leaped to grab it off the receiver, unwilling to allow it to wake the children up. He just didn't want to deal with that right now. And Kyrie, for that matter. She was sleeping so soundly upstairs. He didn't want to disturb her. She would be up soon anyway.

"Hello?" He held the receiver up to his ear, admittedly unsure as to who could be calling it this hour, but willing to bet that it was probably important. Nobody really had his number. The van had a different phone number than the rest of the house, so if it was somebody calling about business, then that phone would be ringing. Only friends and family at this one.

For a moment, it was a silent pause as nothing more than breathing could be heard on the other end of the receiver. He became increasingly uncomfortable, wondering for a moment if this was actually some sort of prank call. He considered hanging up the phone, but just as he was about to, a faint voice came from the other end of the receiver.

"Nero… ?" His breath was slightly shaky, holding an air of uncertainty to it as if he were still contemplating whether or not he should be making this call or if he had the right number in the first place. It was somewhat unlike him, and that immediately stood out to Nero. Was something wrong?

The youngest descendant of the Dark Knight Sparda did a physical double-take, though no one besides him could see it. He knew that voice anywhere. It was V. But then, what was he doing calling it this hour? From what he's seen, he'd normally be asleep by now. What in the world was going on?

"V? Shit, at first I didn't recognize your voice. Something wrong? Is everything okay?" He wasn't afraid to allow the concern in his voice to be known. He knew that V more than possibly anybody else in his family understood the concept of emotional depth. And just by the slightly troubled tone of his voice when he'd spoken his name, he knew that something was wrong. He didn't need to say it.

Another pause, this one somehow even longer than the first. Was he actually having to think about whether or not he was okay? That in of itself concerned him. He didn't want to feel like he was rushing him in any way, but he felt the need to press the question again. "What's wrong? And don't tell me “nothing”, because I know something is. Just tell me what it is."

Exhaling from the other end of the line slowly, V cleared his throat slightly. He seems slightly shaken up, something that he had never really associated with V before now. He was always so calm and well put together. Whatever had happened must have really gotten to him for him to be this off. That was enough to bring him great concern by itself.

"I'm fine. Physically. It's just that something did happen, and Sirrus isn't. I think he will be, but for an hour or two, it was very bad. I was just told that they don't expect him to awaken until at least tomorrow, but he could awaken sooner. At least I think so. I don't… " He drilled off for a moment, another heavy sigh coming for him, this one slightly shakier than before. It was hard to tell from this side of the phone, but at that moment Nero knew that he was not in a good place emotionally. He might have been physically unharmed, but he had seemingly been shaken by the events that he had witnessed. Or perhaps it was more likely that everything was getting to him all at once. To say that things have been rough since his return would be a massive understatement. You can only compress that much stress for so long. "I cannot say why I called If I'm speaking honestly. I guess I just needed to hear the voice of someone who I knew would understand, even if I didn't."

Nero nodded. He knew exactly what he needed to do. "Where are you at, V?"

A slightly surprised intake of air was the only thing that he could hear for a moment until he answered. "The Ludwig estate. They were the closest thing to a hospital I could call."

He nodded to himself, reaching over to grab his coat off of the hook next to the door. He'd have to tell Kyrie about this before he left. "I'll be over in a few minutes. Just stay there, okay?"

Amusingly enough, he could practically feel the gears in V's head-turning as he tried to comprehend how he was going to get from Fortuna to the mainland that quickly. But just as he seemed to register the fact that Nero could fly, Nero was in the process of putting on his boots. He didn't need to change clothes. It wasn't like he really wore pajamas anyway. He didn't think it was going to stand out to anyone if he showed up in gray sweatpants with a black t-shirt on. And if it did, he honestly didn't care.

But much to his surprise, instead of refuting the need for him to come or attempting to talk him down from it, V simply took a few deep breaths before answering. What point was there in trying to talk him out of it? He knew from personal experience that it wouldn't work.

"Okay, Nero."

A soft smirk played its way across Nero's face as he unlocked the front door before turning his attention towards the steps. Something had caught his attention. "I'll see you in a few minutes, then." And then he hung up the phone, admittedly almost hesitantly. He wanted to ask him more questions, but he would do it in person. He didn't think that he was the best person when it came to understanding the feelings and thoughts of others, but one thing he thought that he did understand was V, and if the time that he had reached out to him in his greatest moment of need in the Qliphoth was anything to go by, then he could be trusted to attempt to help his brother when the time came. Even if V didn't realize that that was what he wanted, Nero was, and he wasn't going to let him down.

Just then, a small head poked around the corner, long auburn hair trailing down from it. He was admittedly slightly startled to see Kyrie up, but a glance at the clock was enough to tell him that he shouldn't be too surprised. She was an extraordinary early bird, so seeing her up to make coffee or tea this early wasn't unheard of. It was just that the overcast weather and the closed curtains made it difficult to tell that dawn was actually rolling around. All the more reason for him to get going before people could easily see what he planned to do.

"Nero, is everything okay?" She stepped forward, her robe wrapped around her and another blanket around that. It was a chilly morning, and the heat wasn't exactly on. Something that he was sure she'd remedy as soon as he left. He'd probably been keeping her warm when he'd been up there. The thought made him smile.

With a nod, he stepped forward and squeezed her into a small hug, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. He realized he'd made a habit recently of slipping out in the night, but after he'd gone to Redgrave City with V to go fight Urizen without telling her where he's gone, he had made a quiet promise to himself to never do that again. He could only imagine to this day how worried she'd been when she'd opened the bedroom door and he'd been gone without a trace, especially since he hadn't been awake since the time that he'd lost his arm. She'd probably been worried sick, but ever hopeful as she always was. A talent he himself had never managed to master. He liked to think of it as Kyrie's own special sort of superpower.

"Yeah, nothing to worry about. I just got to go talk to V. He called and he seemed kinda down. I'm going to go check on him."

She smiled softly, nodding. That was something that she wholeheartedly understood and supported. "Okay, then. Be safe. Both of you. And let me know how it goes when you get the chance. Wish him well for me."

Nero nodded, turning towards the door to head out. He was so glad that he had someone who understood without needing to ask. Maybe that was why V had called him? "Sure thing, Kyrie. Have Nico call me if you need somethin'."

And with that, he headed out of the door and towards the Ludwig estate, entirely set upon finding out what had led to his brother calling him so early in the morning. Or even being up this early in the first place, for that matter. If Sirrus was injured, then whatever they have gone up against had probably been pretty bad. After all, he'd seen that guy kill a flaming Taurus demon single-handedly in about two strikes from a sword that wasn't even a devil arm. He wasn't exactly a pushover, and neither was V, for that matter. He needed to find out what was going on. And he wanted to do that sooner rather than later.

(-~-)

V had stood there staring at the phone quietly for several minutes before putting the phone back on the receiver, just listening to the dial tone. He wasn't sure what he thought that would accomplish, but perhaps a bit of mindlessness for a moment was what he needed. He wasn't sure how to explain why what had happened had such a profound effect on him, but it did. Well, he knew, but he didn't know how to put it into words.

Perhaps it was because before all of this he had never been accustomed to such violence or supernatural activity. He'd simply thought himself crazy, having been told so many times that what he could see was not real. And now that he knew that it was, there were still parts of him that were readjusting to that reality. This had been the first time in a long time that he almost witnessed the demise of someone he considered a friend, and that was going to sit with him for at least a few days. That was a guarantee.

He knew he needed to shake that off for the sake of himself in regards to continuing the effect of the curse he was under, but if he did not allow himself to feel the feelings that he felt, then they would consume him. He knew that very well. The trouble was where to draw the line between allowing the emotions to make themselves known, and lingering in them. He didn't want to wallow in his growing guilt.

When he finally headed back to the room where Sirrus was resting, he stuck his head in for a moment to see if he was awake. One of the other Ludwig girls was in there with him, one that he did not recognize. She seemed to be tending to his injuries. Flora and Hydrangea were there now, coming to check on him. It hadn't occurred to him until then to wonder what relationship was to the rest of them. Perhaps a cousin, or even a sister? He wasn't going to ask now, but it was curious, to say the least. She seemed worried about him and close enough to him to indicate that they might be related, but it was genuinely hard to say from an outsider's perspective. They could have just been really good friends for all he knew.

Realizing that he would probably be interrupting a moment that they would be remiss to not take in the event of something tragic, he decided to just close the door back and take a walk. Griffon and Shadow we're already in the room as it was. They would let him know if something was wrong. He knew that other people cared about Sirrus as well, and he needed to allow them the time to grapple with what had happened to him. That was the only right thing he could do in this situation, especially since he had come to harm protecting him in the first place.

Perhaps the fresh air in the garden would do him some good. He headed down the corridor and out the back door, not at all surprised to find that the back door was unlocked at this hour. Only a colossal fool would attempt to breach these walls, not that they were particularly high. In fact, they were quite standard height if not for the ornate wrought iron on top of them. It wouldn't be difficult to climb them at all, but it would be more than a little bit foolish. It was almost as if they were inviting a challenge to those unintelligent enough to take it, but he was certain that no one that entered these walls uninvited would leave them unscathed. This is one of the few places he felt totally safe.

V made his way over to a bench, considering sitting on it for a moment, but then instead of opting to just sit down in front of the pond and enjoy the smell of the water. They kept it very clean, something that had to be a challenge given the size of it, but something he appreciated. Few things were viler than dirty pond water. And he was willing to bet that birds were probably in it during the day. He liked the sound of birds. Maybe he should have moved to the woods after all? No, that hadn't gone well the first time. It seemed that a quiet life of isolation wasn't something that he could be afforded. What a pity. There had been something appealing about the quiet isolation of the cold wilderness.

But as he lingered on that fact, a sort of thundering boom could be heard slightly off in the distance. He turned his attention back to the water, sensing a shift in the atmosphere around him. That had been rather quick. He hoped with everything in him that he hadn't caused too much alarm. It hadn't occurred to him until then, but Nero might have thought that something more was going on. He hoped he hadn't made him worry. He'd indirectly caused enough trouble tonight…

"I'm genuinely surprised that you didn't just land in the courtyard." He said almost too quietly as he heard the door open behind him. He knew that his brother could hear him, even at his decreased volume. It was one of the few benefits of what they were. The sound of the crunching gravel beneath his feet as he approached was all the confirmation he needed to know that Nero had heard him loud and clear.

"Yeah, I actually thought about doing that, but then I thought about the fact that the girls here would probably think I was attacking the place and try to kill me, so… no. Not going to happen."

A soft smile spread across his face in spite of everything, leading to something akin to a chuckle to escape his lips. His younger brother's relentless wit was something that he truly did like about him. He might do foolish things at times, but that didn't mean that V didn't respect the special kind of innate humor that his younger sibling possessed. They were different forms of humor just as they were different forms of intellect, and the fact that they seem to possess different ends of that same spectrum didn't make either of them less valid.

"I'm sorry that I interrupted your rest. You shouldn't have come so early on my behalf." He admittedly did feel guilty about that. He himself was tired, so he couldn't imagine how Nero felt after a day of taking care of the kids and coming to the meeting as early as he had. He'd had time to sit and think afterward, no other personal obligations to attend to. But Nero? He had three kids and a lovely significant other. That was a lot to deal with even before you factored in Nico and her insatiable appetite for chaos and food. The fact that he had taken the time to come and see what was going on with him and then head home to see to the needs of everyone else just showed the breadth of his kindness.

He hoped that was something his brother would never lose. His compassion was something truly special, so genuine and so pure and its intent.

Despite everything that Nero had been through, he had never lost that. Everyone wavered at times, but he always came back to being the person he truly was, and that person was truly something to admire. He wondered if his younger brother knew that.

"No, I definitely should have. Cuz that's what I'm going to do when you need me. And you can't tell me that you don't." Nero sat down on the ground next to V, looking him slightly up and down as if to assess what was wrong with him. It occurred to V at that moment that he was still wearing some of the bandages from being patched up, so he probably looked a little bit worse for wear. The visible bruises and the slightly busted lip weren’t doing him any favors, either. He hoped that they would be gone by morning like they normally were. He was already going to have to explain the situation to the rest of his family, but the last thing he needed was for his father to actually see him in this state. The last time something like that had happened, he'd disappeared for 2 weeks!

Looking over at Nero, he attempted to figure out what he could say to something that was so genuinely touching. He hadn't expected to hear Nero say that, and the genuine look of surprise on his face said everything that it needed to. Nero gave him an almost hurt look, the genuine concern and pain for his suffering in his eyes, something that he had seen in smaller measures before, but could really see the depth of now. He wasn't sure why, but at that moment, he wavered. There was just something so necessary about this.

Truthfully, he hadn't realized the state he was in until Nero had put his hand on his shoulder and leaned over to look him in the face. He hadn't moved, not sure what doing so would do for him. His brain was slightly foggy. He was probably just slightly overwhelmed. But that was the moment when he became acutely aware of the small stream of water that had run down from the corner of his eye, and as soon as he realized this a mixture of confusion and overwhelmed relief had washed over him. It was funny to him to think that Nero had literally seen him with no clothes on once, but that this might be the most compromising thing he’d ever done in front of him. And this hadn't even been the first time tonight that it had happened.

Was he okay?

No, he absolutely wasn't. And he wasn't ashamed to admit that, but he just didn't know how to.

"Okay, what's going on? What's got you so upset? And I don't need a short answer. Or for it to make sense. Just start talking. I'll figure it out."

V blinked, attempting to clear his eyes lightly before simply giving in and wiping his face. He let out a shuddery sigh, looking down at the pond but not seeing himself. "I don't want what happened to Sirrus to happen to any of you. Not for me. Ever."

Nero was taken aback by the honesty of that statement, and although he didn't understand the entirety of the thought process that had led him to making that statement, he understood the pain in it. He knew exactly what that felt like.

"... I know what you mean, V. Somebody important to me lost their life protecting me, and I don't think I've ever been the same since. He was like a brother to me, you know?" He trailed off, efforting his gaze as he thought of what Credo had done for him that day. He thought of how the loss of her brother had broken Kyrie's heart. And he thought of the lasting legacy of that sacrifice and what it meant to him. "But as much as that hurt, I learned something that day but I'm going to carry with me the rest of my life."

V looked over at him, the pain in his expression evident, but the willingness to listen was still present. He'd never seen Nero look so sad before, and that alone was enough to tell him that what he meant to say to him was genuine. He would hear him out "I'm sorry that you... What did you learn that day?"

"That as much as it hurts, sometimes we just have to let people make their own decisions. We don't have to agree with them. We don't even have to like it. We can hate it, but we can't stop them from doing what they think is right. Because if we do, we're taking the same thing from them that they want to give to us. Freedom." He shook his head, really thinking back to that day again. it rarely left his mind. "As much as I didn't want Credo to sacrifice his life to save me, I am thankful that I'm still here. I would never ask him to do that for me, but he did it without a second thought because he thought that my life and Kyrie's life were that important to him, and that there was something he could do to save it. The only thing I wish I could do is thank him for what he did that day. I think that's what eats away at me. The last thing I did was strike out in anger against him over a misunderstanding instead of getting to say what I really thought. How much I appreciated him. Sometimes I wonder if it's the fear of losing people that scares us, or the fear of losing them without that person knowing what they mean to you that scares us more. I think what I’m saying is you just have to trust us, V."

Feeling good in those words for a minute, taking them in. The sentiment made sense to him, of that much he couldn't deny. And the genuine pain in Nero's voice as he recognized that reality was something that he knew would stay with him. He could see how it weighed on him. It was the truth, as far as he could tell. Everyone would die eventually, but it was the way you died and the life you lived that mattered. And as was the nature of the truth, it cut deep and it's done, but he understood the necessity of the words that his younger sibling had spoken to him.

"Then live. I think he knew. I don't see how he couldn't. I don't think he died to bury you in the guilt you now feel, Nero. Don't labor under the guilt decision you took out part in, revel in the memory of the kindness they showed you."

Nero didn't answer, but he nodded slowly, indicating that he agreed. There wasn't much he could say about it. That was what he knew deep down he should feel, but it was just hard to. He felt that he should live his life and do right by what Credo had done for him to honor his memory, but that didn't stop him from missing him. Maybe it was time that he embraced that.

He placed his hand on Nero's shoulder, suddenly more concerned with the obvious pain that he was going through than anything else. They both recognized that it wasn't a perfect solution, but it was one that they could agree on for the time being. Things rarely were perfect. There wasn't much more he could do right now. But he was willing to accept that the people who loved him just wanted to see him safe, and he was willing to do everything in his power to keep them safe, too. The feeling was mutual. And they were safest when they put their heads together and worked as a cohesive unit.

"Then I will strive to do the same. You're right. I will respect your wish to protect me… and in return, I trust that you will respect my wish to do the same for you." The pain that he'd felt moments ago at what had happened suddenly shifted, hardening into a resolve that he hadn't previously realized he'd had. He'd found his motivation to fight. He had something to protect now, and he wouldn't see any harm come to those that he loved due to his inaction. Absolutely not. "I won't let any of you fight this battle for me. It's time that we ended this. Side by side."

Nero nodded and stood up, holding his hand out to him in a silent offering of assistance. And this time, V humored him. "You're goddamn right. Let's do this."

(-~-)

Wow, this chapter really got me in the feels. Probably the most important 5k words I’ve written in a long time. I think it was important for them to mutually agree to do this together. They work best together when they are on the same page, you know? That's the difference between Nero and V and their uncle and father. Communication and recognition of their limits. They will offer help and ask for it (at least a good amount of the time) They understand and admit that they can't do something with that they need something to help them.

I hope to see you in the comments, and I'll see you on Wednesday!

#Hiraeth #V #Nero #Vitale #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #Devil May Cry 5 AU #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU OC's #My Post Devil May Cry V AU Fanfiction #My Post Devil May Cry 5 OC #DMC #DMCV #DMC5 #Devil May Cry #Fic

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winryofresembool · 3 years ago

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Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 32

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: At Waystation (again) and a bit elsewhere too

A/N: We're (finally) getting closer to the end of the 'Waystation arc'. I don't think I have that much to say about this chapter, but I'd like to dedicate it to Cecid as a late birthday present, because she has really kicked my butt to continue this story!

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!! It's super important (<- Lizzie Bennet Diaries reference)

(Ps. Fellow Europeans, vote for Finland in ESC!!!)

Words: 2950

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

The silence that fell into the room after Leo stormed out got more and more overwhelming until finally, Calypso couldn’t take it anymore. She could feel the two women and their daughter stare at her, but they were too astounded to say anything.

“I… I don’t understand what I did wrong,” Calypso mumbled eventually. “They were just matches. I didn’t mean that he should use them immediately; it was just my way of trying to tell him that I believe he can get over his fear one day.”

The women exchanged dark looks.

“Georgie, could you play with Festus outside for a moment? He looked like he needed to burn some energy,” Emmie suggested, wanting to get the girl out of the hearing distance.

“Ugh, fine,” Georgie pouted because she would have preferred admiring her gifts, but left anyway.

Once she was gone, Jo sighed. “About what just happened… you did nothing wrong, Calypso. It’s just…” She stopped to contemplate her next words. “Christmas is always a hard time for Leo. He tries his best to participate and make his jokes and all that, but his eyes betray him. He’s just… not there.”

“I want to understand…” Calypso stepped closer to Leo’s mothers. “Did something happen to him on some Christmas?”

“Yes, you could say that,” Emmie replied sadly. “Leo’s mother died on Christmas day several years ago.”

Calypso’s eyes widened as she understood what Emmie was trying to say.

“Oh gods… And she died in a fire, right? He did mention it once… No wonder he didn’t want to touch the matches, especially today.”

“Yes,” Emmie confirmed. “She did die in a fire. But there’s more to it. Leo probably wouldn’t want me to tell you this but in this situation it might be better that you know: he blames himself for the fire.”

“I probably shouldn’t ask, but… why?” Calypso asked, feeling more sickened every moment as she pictured a young boy mourning his mother and his home. “What happened?”

“We have only gotten some bits and pieces from here and there, but it seems the fire most likely started from some papers he had left near a fireplace. Accidentally, of course, but he doesn’t see it that way,” Jo sniffed. Suddenly Calypso realized that Leo’s pain must have hurt his family more than he probably even realized. They really cared about him a lot… She couldn’t help but feel just a tiny bit jealous because at least Leo had people supporting him. But she quickly pushed that unnecessary thought aside.

“That’s awful… I guess he’s afraid that he might accidentally make something like that happen again and that’s why he doesn’t want fire near him.” Calypso knew the fear of hurting someone she cared about and the guilt all too well. She would never forget the flashing lights and the loud crash that followed. Her nightmares made sure of that.

“Yes, it’s likely he feels that way. Since he moved here, he’s been seeing a therapist every once in a while but it’s clear he’s still a work in progress. He doesn’t talk about his mother a lot to us either. Just when we ask something general, and even then the answers are usually quite short.”

Bitterly, Calypso thought that was how she acted when someone brought up her family.

“I realize now that the matches were a big mistake,” she finally said. “I wish there was something I could do… I hate just watching helplessly when someone I… um...” She stopped mid sentence when she realized what she was about to reveal too much.

“Just be there for him,” Emmie suggested, luckily ignoring Calypso’s stuttering. “Despite everything, I think he’s still shown good progress the past few months. Sometimes time and patience and care can do amazing things.”

“Yeah. I think you are right there.” Calypso agreed. She herself had asked her friends, including Leo, to be patient with her as well. It was only fair she’d do the same with him.

“And Calypso?” Emmie eyed her worriedly. “Remember to take care of yourself as well.”

Calypso didn’t understand how the woman had seen through her that well. There was no way she could know what was going on in her mind because she hadn’t told even Leo everything. And Emmie and she had only known each other for a couple of days so far.

“I… sure. I will try my best!” she promised, instead of questioning Emmie’s comment.

“Good. I can’t say I know you all that well yet but know that people who are important to Leo are important to us.”

For a moment Calypso imagined what it would be like to have a mother like that. For some reason the thought made her emotional. “Thank you. You are so kind.”

“No, just doing what’s necessary. Now, I suggest you go and get dressed for the day and do what else you need to do; we might need some help with lunch soon. Besides, Georgie might need some supervision because she gets hyper when she eats too much chocolate. Funny how she and Leo are not biologically related but they still have a lot in common,” Emmie ended with a slightly amused remark.

Calypso did notice that she didn’t say anything about trying to find Leo, but she understood. He probably wanted to be on his own for a moment, and she’d respect that. Hopefully she’d get to talk to him eventually, but until then it was better to try to do something helpful rather than spend the whole day worrying. But even while she was doing her morning chores, she could still see Leo’s angry eyes when he saw her gift in her mind.

…

Leo didn’t know where he should go so he just followed his instinct. He didn’t want to hide inside; the pictures from his nightmare were still too fresh in his mind and he needed to be somewhere where he could breathe fresh air. As he was crossing the yard, Festus tried to follow him, and he wagged his tail cheerfully to make his favorite human happier, but this one time Leo didn’t want his company. He apologized to the dog and told him that he’d take him for a walk after getting his thoughts cleared.

He kept walking until finally, he reached a certain park where he and Jason used to jog often. Seeing a log bench on the side, he decided to sit down for a moment. Someone had made a campfire nearby earlier and Leo glared at the remaining ashes like they were the reason for all his troubles. He could feel the panic rise up his throat as he was reminded of the fire again, but he challenged himself to stay there for at least a moment. Finally, he sighed.

He knew he had totally overreacted to Calypso’s gift. Surely she had meant good but she didn’t know why fire and Christmas were not a good combination when it came to Leo. If he had just ignored the matches, nothing would have happened. Now he’d have to explain to her why he had freaked out like that and that wouldn’t be easy.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring into nothing when he suddenly felt a knock on his shoulder. Having not heard anyone arrive, he startled at the touch, but quickly recovered when he recognized the newcomer.

“Pipes! What brings you here?” he exclaimed, briefly noticing that her brown hair was now shorter than it had used to be and somehow her whole demeanor seemed a bit different. He attempted to put on a smile for her but he knew he was probably failing.

“Funny, I was gonna ask you the same question,” Piper noted, sitting down next to Leo. “I thought you would be at Waystation with your family. It’s Christmas day, after all.”

“Oh, yeah, I was there.” Piper raised her eyebrow so he quickly added: “You know me; this holiday and I don’t exactly walk hand in hand so I needed to get out for a moment.” Leo hoped that would be a sufficient explanation. She did know what had happened to his mother, even if not to the full extent.

“But Calypso was there with you. I thought that would cheer you up,” Piper pointed out.

“Funny you should say that,” Leo chuckled, although there was nothing amusing about the situation. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m kind of trying to escape from her right now.”

“You’re trying to escape…” Piper repeated with confusion. “Why? What happened? I thought things were going fine between you two. Especially after what happened after the party…”

“Not everything is how it looks to outsiders, Pipes,” Leo stopped her. “Things haven’t been amazing lately. I mean, in many ways. Yeah, I like her and somehow she also likes me, apparently. Yeah, I know, pretty unbelievable.”

Piper gave him her best ‘wow, you’re really breaking the news there, Leo’ look. He didn’t get disheartened, though, instead continuing: “But we have, um, decided that we shouldn’t get together for various reasons so we’ve been trying to find some kind of a golden mean where we can still continue being friends but it hasn’t been working out that well. One sec we are at each other's' throats for whatever stupid reason, and the next we’re acting all flirty and ignoring the rules we set. I was hoping that this Waystation visit would give us a chance to get to know each other better in an environment where we have others around us… And I think it was actually working for a while. I feel more comfortable there, and I think she was feeling more comfortable too… But today I went and messed things up again.”

“What did you do?” Piper sighed disapprovingly.

“I may or may not have gotten mad about her Christmas present,” Leo confessed finally, cringing because he realized how bad it sounded.

“Oh, Leo…” Piper shook her head. “Why would you get mad about something like that? You’re not usually someone who’d get mad that easily.”

“Yeah… I know I’m not, but… I had a pretty rough day to begin with. Not that that’s anything new to me, but…”

“But what?” Piper inquired.

“I saw a nightmare about my mom’s death right before I woke up. I was still kinda on the edge when we were opening the presents so when I saw the matches…”

“She gave you matches?” Piper tilted her head slightly as she was trying to figure out what Leo was saying.

“Yeah,” Leo shrugged. “To be clear, though, they were only a part of the present. She had made me a real nice tool belt, probably way better than any of those that they sell in some stores. The matches were in one of the pockets. And now I can see you’re gonna say: ‘well, maybe she just wanted you to try to get over your fear’, and maybe you’re right, but the timing…”

“You have not told her about the anniversary,” Piper concluded. “I’m sure you have figured out by now that you can’t blame her for something she didn’t know about. That’s not fair.”

“I know that!” Leo exclaimed. “I’m not really blaming her; I just overreacted! But how will I explain that to her? ‘Sorry I yelled at you; I just happened to burn my entire house 11 years ago today so I’m not exactly fond of fire right now?’”

“You know what I’m thinking?” Piper interrupted Leo’s unhealthy thought process. He didn’t answer. “I think you two have some serious communication issues. I know that Calypso isn’t good at opening about her past, and she has also admitted to me she has a tendency to push people back if she’s afraid they’re getting too close to her. But guess what, Leo? You’re the same. I’ve noticed that even though you’re kind of loud sometimes and you like to tell bad jokes…”

“Hey!” Leo protested.

“Shh, let me finish. My point is, you don’t often tell us what you’re really thinking. When you’re having one of your rougher periods, you withdraw into your workshop for days. All I’m trying to say here is that please talk to us. Specifically, talk to her. When she notices that you trust her enough to talk about something that personal, she might open up to you more as well. If she really likes you, she’ll understand.”

“Beauty Queen, I hate it when you see through me that well,” Leo muttered. “I dunno. I guess I’ll have to talk to her when I go back. If my moms don’t murder me first.”

“Nah. They wouldn’t. I mean, you may not get any presents next Christmas but that’s a small price to pay when you stormed out like that,” Piper teased him.

“You sure know how to make a man regret his bad deeds.” Leo rolled his eyes. “Anyway, we’ve established why I’m here right now but what about you? Shouldn’t you be with Jason or something?” Suddenly Piper didn’t seem as determined to scold Leo anymore.

“I… Jason and I are having a break.”

“A break? As in…?” Leo asked with confusion.

“As in a break,” Piper repeated more firmly. “What part of it you don’t understand? He and I are seeing if we are happier apart.”

Leo spent a moment taking the information in. “But I don’t get it. You guys have always been the most stable couple I’ve known. Why this kind of a decision all of a sudden?” He couldn’t say that he was entirely surprised by this piece of news after his talk with Jason before Christmas, but it still felt different to hear it from Piper. More final.

“I don’t think it’s all of a sudden. It’s been coming for a while now,” Piper confessed.

“Really? And you’re telling me only now?” Leo raised his eyebrow.

“It was something I needed to figure out on my own. Now, please don’t think I’ve just been playing with him, or something. I do love Jason. He’s my best friend. But… I’m starting to feel we’ve progressed too fast. That there’s a whole world out there for me to see that I missed because I was so busy getting together with Jason. I want to get to know who I am and where I really belong.”

“But… you have a house and everything together…” Leo said, suddenly feeling like a child whose parents were telling him they were breaking up, forgetting his own problems for a moment. “How are you gonna deal with that?”

“The plan is for now that we both keep living in our house until we make our final decision. I don’t want to go back to my dad and Jason would want to live with his dad even less. Of course it’s possible that we decide to continue our relationship, but if not, then we’re going to sell the house. But we are not rushing that. For now, we’re just trying to be friends, and not… exclusive.”

Leo was slightly relieved to hear that at least his best friends were still on speaking terms.

“Alright… if that’s what both of you want, then I’ll support it,” he said. “It’d suck to lose touch with either of you because of this.”

“Don’t worry,” Piper reassured him. “You won’t.” She ruffled his hair a little as if he was her little brother. “Everyone needs a Super-sized McShizzle in their lives, don’t they? It’d be pretty empty otherwise.”

Leo gave her a lopsided smile. “Glad you admitted that.”

“Anyway, enough about my boring relationship issues!” Piper decided to change the topic. “So, you told me Cal got you a tool belt and matches, but what did you give to her? It’s important, Leo.”

“You really think I’m gonna reveal it to you, Beauty Queen? I’m smarter than that,” Leo pointed out.

“I know what you did at our uni’s freshman party and I’m not afraid to tell it to Cal if I need to.” Piper winked at him in response.

Leo rolled his eyes. “Pshhh, that was freshman year. That excuses everything.”

“Alright, don’t tell me then.” Piper turned to leave.

“If you really must know,” Leo said before Piper got too far, “it was a jewelry box. With a bracelet in it. But it was not new so it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Piper asked with amusement. “You know things get serious when you give a girl a piece of jewelry.”

“Wait, what? For real?” Leo was shocked for a moment until he noticed Piper had a hard time not bursting into laughter. She was just messing with him. “OK, remind me to never tell you anything serious ever again.”

“You know you can’t resist my charm,” Piper chuckled. “Once you have forgotten what you just said, please tell me what really has happened at Waystation recently.”

Leo couldn’t help but shake his head at Piper’s enthusiasm but eventually started to tell her the whole story. He noticed that it helped him to forget about the negative thoughts for a moment so he didn’t really mind even though Piper had a tendency to be a bit pushy when it came to his feelings towards Calypso. And he assumed that Piper welcomed the distraction happily as well, because she must have felt conflicted about the whole Jason situation. When did things get so complicated, he wondered briefly before chuckling at his thoughts ironically. His life had never been simple. But even so, he would keep fighting. Because that’s what his mom would want, and that's what his family and friends would want.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

[CN] Kiro’s Original Intention Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date (and Season 2) which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Knowing the basics of Season 2 is necessary to understand what’s going on in this date. Do read this post if you don’t know anything about it!

Parallel World Dates Collection: Gavin // Shaw // Victor

Check out @skyholders‘ translation of Lucien’s date here!

“When popular star Kiro returned to the country yesterday, there were hints of a new collaboration?”

The name “Kiro” has taken over several hot topics. Kiro received a short and sudden interview at the airport, attracting countless discussions and guesses.

Reporter: I heard you signed a contract with a well-known music company in the period before this. Is your return to the country due to any special plans?

Kiro: There’s nothing special. I could be returning just to take my guitar?

Reporter: ...we know you’ve taken on the role of a lead singer and are about to embark on a world tour. There must be some special reason for you to return to the country, right?

Kiro: For this, it’s better to ask my agent.

Kiro smiles and pushes a bespectacled uncle in front of the camera. He playfully sticks out his head from behind the uncle, and pats his shoulder.

Kiro: I’m leaving it to you.

Once the words are out of his mouth, he runs off.

My phone screen displays a photo of Kiro’s smiling face as he turns back. His golden hair plates his entire body in a generously brilliant and blazing splendour.

I brush his face gently with my fingertips, my heart feeling heavy.

Like a raging wave, unspeakable longing and sadness knead together, fiercely slapping onto the shore.

Kiro has returned to Loveland City.

However, this meeting doesn’t give me much time to feel low.

Dad is standing in front of the projector in the conference room, orderly explaining the upcoming work arrangement for the company.

Dad: ...these are all the materials on Kiro. Everyone, please confirm the content on hand, and ensure that we are all on the same page. We’ve recently signed a contract with Kiro’s company. Kiro has received his Admission Letter and will continue pursuing his studies in the music academy. After he finishes his world tour, he will officially sign the contract to return to the country and develop. The contract this time is the very beginning of the collaboration, to work with Kiro’s upcoming tour. All departments have to make preparations. That’s all.

After the meeting is dismissed, Dad sits at my side.

Dad: Suddenly calling you back from school - am I giving you too much stress?

MC: I’m just a little surprised. I never thought the company... that Dad would make such an arrangement.

Dad: This isn’t just Dad’s arrangement. You’ll know the specifics next time.

Dad pauses. When he speaks again, his tone seems to have a certain depth to it. I blink, making secret guesses in my heart.

This means... it could be Black Swan’s arrangement.

Dad: You once told Dad you wanted to be an outstanding producer. Of course, I’ll support my daughter in doing what she wants. This time, I’m just letting you get used to the tasks. Don’t be too nervous. Dad can’t bear to let you to dive into work so quickly!

MC: Hahaha, thank you Dad! I’ll learn seriously! I definitely wouldn’t cause trouble for everyone.

Dad: The contract for the collaboration will happen three days later, so we can do some preparations before that.

After greeting my father, I walk out of the building and turn back to look at it. With complex emotions, I head towards the convenience store.

The world proceeds forward slowly, but there are some differences from back then.

In my memory, Black Swan used B.S. Entertainment to lead public opinion. In an accident arising from multiple causes, it was replaced by my company.

As a similar media body, Dad has been expanding the company’s scope of influence since several years ago.

In a way, we’ve already met Black Swan’s requirements and purposes.

From some imperceptible moment, the entire world has moved towards a familiar yet unknown future.

However, there are coincidences that are either heaven’s tricks, or destiny.

This time, my father’s sufficiently powerful company has replaced B.S. Entertainment, and has become Kiro’s future home.

Without realising it, I’ve walked into that small convenience store.

I stand in front of the shelves, staring dazedly at the final bag of chips.

I think about that person’s “warning” --

“Your unintentional actions may lead to irretrievable consequences.”

As though I’m deep in a black swamp, I’m trapped in place. My lips are sealed, and I sink into the darkness.

After a long time, I pat my face fiercely with both hands, letting out a hard breath.

MC: This time, I’ll be the one searching for you...

When I reach out for the bag of chips, a beautiful and slender hand appears in front of me - we’ve grabbed the same bag of potato chips.

I turn my head, and the person beside me turns to look at me as well.

He is standing against the light, and a smile brims in his eyes. He gives the bag of chips a gentle tug, pulling me a step closer to him in the process.

It’s as though he’s pulling me, who’s continuously sinking.

A heavy feeling rising up from my chest and up my throat. I blink hard and clench my teeth. Even then, I can’t stop the redness in my eyes.

MC: Kiiii... mmph!

Kiro suddenly covers my mouth with his hand and glances around.

His smiling eyes tell me that he’s not angry at all about my rudeness.

Kiro: Shhh... I don’t want to get noticed.

I nod.

Our little scene seems to have drawn attention, so we squat down in hiding.

We crouch together next to the shelf, shoulders nearly touching. Looking at the bag of chips in my hands, I suddenly laugh.

Kiro: You’ve smiled.

MC: Hm?

Kiro: You looked like you were going to cry just now. I even thought I frightened you!

MC: How can that be? I... I was just too excited. I didn’t think the big celebrity I saw on the screen would appear in front of me. Now, we’re squatting here like little kids in kindergarten.

Everything is too similar to how we once met. The words involuntarily leave my lips. It’s as though in front of him, no matter how many times the scene repeats, I’m still the me of back then.

Kiro: If I were still in kindergarten, I definitely wouldn’t let you have the last bag of chips.

I turn around and find Kiro looking at the chips in my hand, seemingly not willing to give up.

A breeze enters the convenience store, lifting strands of his golden hair. Eighteen-year-old Kiro is beside me, looking as though he’s emitting light.

MC: The Kiro now is already a mature Kiro!

Kiro: You’re right.

Even though I said that, Kiro still looks unwilling. His eyes are crinkled, and his mouth slants to a side.

I look at him and think of a time long ago. Making a silent prayer that this bag of chips contains the Batman AR card, I tear the bag open slowly.

MC: It’s a Batman AR card!!

Kiro: Eh, how are you even more excited than I am.

MC: Haha.

There’s a twinge in my heart, and I'm unsure if it’s longing or sadness. I try to shoot Kiro a smile, though it probably doesn't look good.

MC: This is for you.

Kiro takes the card and smiles, his eyes becoming even brighter.

Kiro: How did you know that I'm collecting these?

MC: ...I-I guessed it! Because...

Kiro: Because I look like the type who would collect these?

MC: Yes yes yes, that’s it.

Kiro: And I also look like I’m just missing this card?

MC: ...y-yes, I guess?

Kiro: Mm! I think so too!

Those blue eyes are filled with smiles, not containing a shred of impurity or suspicion. I release a relieved sigh in my heart.

Kiro: But... I think we’ve forgotten to pay.

MC: Ah, you’re right. So sorry, ma’am. I’ll buy ten bags later! Sorry!

Kiro: Sorry!

We look at each other and burst out laughing.

This time, our eighteen-year-old selves still share this tiny secret.

After walking out of the convenience store, I suddenly wonder why Kiro has appeared here and at this point of time.

Kiro looks towards my father’s company and starts whistling playfully.

Kiro: So this is [-MC’s company name-].

His tone is light, not carrying the same anticipation he has on his face.

Kiro: Are you an employee of this company too?

MC: ...

The light of spring is in his bright eyes. Kiro looks at me quietly. This simple question seems to have a meaning behind it.

MC: I am. I just learnt that you’d be coming to the company after three days to sign the contract. But I came here to buy some things for myself...

Kiro: I see.

His eyes crinkle, as though accepting my explanation.

MC: You’re here to take a look beforehand?

Kiro: Actually...

Just as Kiro starts speaking, my phone suddenly rings. Kiro smiles and signals for me to answer the phone first, then takes a few steps away.

MC: Hello? Dad?

Dad: It’s a little sudden, but come to the conference room in 15 minutes to prepare. The collaboration contract with Kiro has been brought forward to today.

On the other end of the line, I can hear faint sounds of various departments busily preparing for the various contract-related issues.

Their conversations reveal the importance of the contract which is about to commence.

Once this collaboration succeeds, it will herald a new phase of the company’s future development in the aspect of acting.

??: Kiro hasn’t reached the office...

Father: Savin, don’t worry. MC, I’ll hang up now. Hurry back soon.

MC: All right.

MC: [to Kiro] You brought the contract signing forward to today?

Seeing that I’ve put down the phone, Kiro stuffs both hands into his pocket and bounces over to me.

Kiro: Something cropped up, so I communicated it to the company. I hope I didn’t cause trouble for everyone.

He retrieves a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, putting them on confidently.

Thinking about something, he tugs his sunglasses downwards lightly, revealing his smiling blue eyes.

Kiro: I tend to get lost easily. Could you show me the way?

MC: Isn’t it just in front?!

Kiro: A person who lacks a sense of direction wouldn’t be able to find the entrance even if the building is right in front of him.

He squints. Tickled by his odd logic, I burst into laughter, then give him a mock bow.

MC: Follow me then, big celebrity.

Kiro puts his sunglasses on properly, then does a thumbs-up gesture contentedly.

They reach the office, and Kiro apologises for the trouble caused

He looks over the contract meticulously and voices his opinions on certain terms, providing suggestions on how they can be mutually beneficial

He signs the contract and the employees leave the conference room

MC is surprised at how anti-climatic the whole thing was, and in her distracted state, forgets to change the settings on the photocopier (which is set to printing small cards)

As a result, the photocopying machine only prints Kiro’s signature on an A4 sheet

Kiro: Is that gentleman your father?

MC: Mm.

Kiro: I see... doesn’t that make you my future boss?

MC: Eh?!

I’m momentarily startled by his words, my brain slowing down and my eyes blinking continuously.

Tickled by my expression, Kiro smiles and crinkles his eyes.

Kiro: Am I wrong?

His tone is sincere, and embeds within it a sort of curiosity and probing.

I lower my head, looking at that sheet of invalid A4 paper, and lift my head with a deep sigh.

MC: You’re not wrong. It’s just that... I’m still very lacking right now. I’m not outstanding enough, and there are many things I can’t do. But I won’t stop here. I’ll make you believe that joining this company is something to be proud of.

I’ll continue running along this path that you’re shining on, and be like you, to become the light.

Kiro’s eyes slowly grow darker. I instinctively tighten my grip on my pen, but am unable to avert my eyes from his.

These seconds of silence feel like I’m being examined. Gradually, he lifts the corners of his lips.

Kiro: Will you be participating in my upcoming world tour?

MC: Probably not... I’m a newbie, so Savin should be going with you.

Kiro: Shall we practice then?

MC: Practice?

Saying this, Kiro leans forward. With a blink, he places his hand on the back of mine.

Kiro: Practice for when you become my future boss.

The sweet scent of the young man brushes the tip of my nose, reminiscent of a person secretly pouring melted hot chocolate into the cup of someone he likes.

He grins and tightens his grip on my hand. On the right side of the invalid A4 sheet, he writes his name crookedly.

Kiro: Your turn.

MC: ...I can really do that?

Kiro: I already said that this is a rehearsal for our future.

MC: But your hand...

Kiro: Hm?

My ears feel warm. Kiro’s eyes flash with the light of a prankster, waiting for me to finish.

His hand remains on the back of mine. He doesn’t exert any force. It feels like a catkin fluttering gently in my heart - ticklish, and can be flicked away with a light touch.

But I can’t bear to.

MC: Nothing!

My face is flushed. With his hand over mine, I leave a crooked “MC” on the left side.

These two names are left on the invalid A4 paper - like a starting point of a certain dream.

Kiro takes up the A4 sheet. Turning his palm, he entwines my fingers with his.

Kiro: We’ve made an agreement. I’ll definitely stand on a higher platform, and let even more people see Kiro, and hear Kiro’s songs. I’ll make the name “Kiro” appear in every corner of the world.

Gorgeous spots of light appear behind the young man, like the most brilliant and pure parts of youth. Still, they can’t compare to the brilliant light in his eyes.

My heart is beating rapidly, and it feels as though a piping heat is coursing through my bloodstream. A faint heat grows where our fingertips meet.

MC: Mm, we have an agreement. I’ll also keep learn learning, and will use my strength and abilities to better develop this company. In the future, this company will be one that’s worthy to collaborate with the “International Superstar” Kiro.

Kiro: Can I do it?

Kiro tilts his head, the glinting light in his eyes wavering slightly. It’s as though a tiny bit of doubt has appeared from its depths.

MC: Do you think I can do it?

Kiro: I think you can.

MC: Then you’ll naturally have no problem either!

I feel his shallow breaths on my fingertips. He leans his head lightly on our entwined hands.

Kiro: Our agreement is complete. If one of us doesn’t reach our goal, there’ll be a punishment.

MC: I won’t give you that chance!

Light soaks in through the window and covers our fingers. Kiro hops down from the table and gently lifts me to my feet, pulling me into the sunlit area.

Just as he did countless times before.

Kiro: Before the future arrives, please guide me. Miss Chips.

While MC is driving Kiro home, he suddenly asks:

Kiro: Is Miss Chips also from Black Swan?

Kiro pipes up, his eyes not leaving the screen of his laptop. There is a smile on his lips, but it looks like a natural-looking mask.

His casual-sounding question startles me. Although it’s a surprise that he would be so upfront about this, my fingers on the steering wheel tighten.

The green light makes its countdown, and I slow down, stopping before the zebra crossing.

MC: I’m not. Although... I might be in the future. I don’t want to lie to you.

Kiro: Is that so.

His tone is light, as though he isn’t paying attention. As though it could be swallowed up by a flower blowing in the spring breeze.

MC: Also, do you... remember what happened when you were young?

Kiro: Bits and pieces. I don’t remember much.

My heart grows heavy. Does Kiro not remember what happened in the orphanage?

MC: I... have something that I definitely have to do. No matter how difficult it is, I have to accomplish it. There’s also someone I want to meet. I’ve waited a very, very long time. It’s been so long that I’m about to give up. But once I think about how he’s working hard in some corner of the world, I’m filled with motivation.

I turn my head and meet Kiro’s eyes. His eyes are filled with an incomprehensible emotion.

MC: I want to protect him, and want... to meet him again. No matter what misunderstandings this path would bring, I’ll continue walking bravely.

Kiro blinks his eyes slowly, and finally reveals an unobstructed smile.

Kiro: Miss Chips, you’ll definitely have no problem.

After Kiro returns home, the smile he kept up in front of the girl finally collapses in a second.

In the pitch black living room, the sunlight outside the window has been kept outside by a thick and heavy curtain.

He clenches his teeth and sits in front of the laptop, the continuously dancing search results on the screen making him cast his eyes downwards.

Kiro: ...still no results.

In the end, he drags himself to the sofa, his pale face almost transparent under the glow of the screen.

A stubbornness appears on his lips, and dots of sweat appear on his forehead, as though he’s enduring a great agony.

Kiro: At least... it’s only acting up now.

At this moment, a call from a foreign number appears on his phone.

Kiro: It’s me.

??: You finally picked up.

Kiro: Tell me the results directly.

??: The test results and your predictions are almost the same.

Kiro: Mm.

Darkness has swallowed his face, but his eyes are flashing with light. Even though the world has plunged into a deep darkness, there’s still a scorching, blooming light.

Kiro: Let’s meet then.

He throws his phone aside, a look of self-deprecation on his face. Even though he’s curled up, he can’t suppress his trembling. The colour of an abyss is in his eyes.

Kiro: [groaning]

The young man’s painful groans resound in the dark, and black markings appear on his arm.

The hands supporting the young man’s body allow him to look at the other corner, into the mirror in the darkness.

The hair of the person in the mirror has gradually faded into a silvery grey, and there is a dazzling golden light in his originally blue eyes--

Overlapping with the image in his mind.

Kiro: ...I, command you--

The young man’s soft voice lingers in the dark.

🌸 MOMENTS 🌸

Kiro’s Post: Now that I think about it, did I sign an unfair contract back then?

MC: Is it the fastest contract you’ve signed in your life?

Kiro: It’s also the most important contract in my life ^_^

Kiro’s Post: Now that I think about it, did I sign an unfair contract back then?

MC: Written in black and white - behave and call me boss~

Kiro: As compared to “boss”, I’ve always preferred “Miss Chips” as a form of address.

Kiro’s Post: Now that I think about it, did I sign an unfair contract back then?

MC: Did I treat you badly?!

Kiro: Does this mean you’re going to treat me to potato chips next time?

Phone call: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro

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mandalorewhore · 4 years ago

Text

Mirroring

PART THREE OF MOMENTS IN-BETWEEN!!

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2.6k AO3 link

Content: light angst, themes of anxiety, fluff, bonding, found family, subtle dinmera :), din learns how to communicate with kids

Summary: Soft moments between Din and Grogu that the audience does not get to see In-between episodes, scenes, and seasons.

A/N: this one is lighter/sillier than previous chapters, also there will be multiple Sorgan chaps owo

***

The kid won’t stop following Din.

He doesn’t get it at first. If he’s being honest, he unconsciously expected to put the child down and come back to the child sitting right where he left it. The realization is slightly embarrassing. Of course, a baby isn’t going to sit nicely without supervision... even an odd baby with strange powers and the highest bounty Din has ever seen.

The child isn’t dumb or animalistic; Din knows that his physical growth relative to mental growth must be far slower than other species, especially since the kid has toddler-like mannerisms yet possesses enough strength to lift a full-grown Mudhorn with his mind.

Din tries to not think about that, it’s too confusing to consider while he juggles running for his life. The child's powers don’t lend him self-sufficiency, the kid still needs help with feeding, bathroom breaks, and keeping clean. Din is struck over and over again with the realization that this child will rely on him for, well, everything.

Even after choosing to lose everything for the kid, the reality of his situation is overwhelming enough to cause him some anxiety. The child will continually look to him for nourishment, entertainment, and probably affection. Definitely affection. He’s already seeking that comfort with the way he looks at Din, face so full of trust that it is almost uncomfortable to witness. The kid mirrors the bounty hunter’s actions, playing with the switches on the Crest console and attempting to follow him wherever he goes.

He stubbornly waddles in Din’s shadow even after they landed on Sorgan, making his way through the lush woods on tiny limbs. Din learns to slow his pace once the kid falls a little too far behind.

This planet is lovely. It is such a shame that they can’t stay. Warm, late-summer light breaks through the forest canopy to speckle the forest floor as if the lightbox antics from the night before have manifested in reality. The kid is just as distracted by the real thing, chasing the sunbeams and occasionally wandering to the side of the beaten path in a manner that makes Din nervous. He feels like he could blink and the baby will be lost in the underbrush. Once they get back to the ship Din will sit him down and have a chat about that habit. Hopefully, the little one will understand well enough to stick closer to him on their next excursion.

He pauses in the shadowy path, smiling when a small bump at his ankle tells him the kid is keeping pace. He looks down and meets the baby’s dark eyes, the emotion within them is feverishly excited. The child babbles and points into the trees, swirling his hands around with an animated flair to gesture at everything and nothing. Din guesses he is trying to describe the woods.

The bounty hunter crouches down and listens attentively to the kids ranting, his large dark eyes so emotive that the language barrier is all but eliminated. Both the baby and Mandalorian nod and look around with exaggerated motions, the child's excited attitude rubbing off on him. Din doesn’t want to interrupt the moment but he knows they need to keep going if they want to make it back to the ship before dark. They’re still being hunted.

The bounty hunter straightens with a heavy breath, settling his hands on his hips. “Come on little one. It will be dark soon.” The baby clutches Din’s calf and keens, a high whining sound that plucks the man’s heartstrings. The poor child is having so much fun here. For the millionth time, Din wishes that they could stay on Sorgan. If the baby weren’t under his care then he would just take down the shock trooper and claim the planet for his hideout… Unfortunately, that would bring too much heat onto the pair.

Din tries again to convince the baby, raising his voice an octave to sound more excited, hopefully, it will catch the kid’s attention. “I’ll give you a treat when we’re back. How’s that sound, huh?”

It works, he thinks. The baby perks his ears up and lets out a curious coo, backing up from Din’s legs and looking down the path. Din smiles again then starts up his pace again, a little faster now that the sunshine has taken on a deeper hue.

They make good time, traveling several miles before dusk falls and the forest lays in shadow. It is a bit eerie now, bird song and animal calls have all but disappeared with the daylight. The only sound now is the rustling of leaves, insect buzzing, and an occasional breeze howling through the trees. Din flicks on his night vision setting and walks faster, forgetting in his haste that he needs to make sure that the child is keeping up.

Seconds later, a twig snaps and Din whips around, the sound is just too loud and heavy for the kid to make. There’s nothing behind him, no movement in the woods, no footprints or body-heat register, and the path is clear. Everything is fine- Wait.

The path is completely clear.

The kid is nowhere to be seen.

Panic floods Din’s body, intense, choking pressure crushing his limbs and chest with enough force to rip the air out of his lungs. The sensation is akin to being sucked into space, although Din would take that fate over the current fear that overwhelms him. Hunter’s instincts take over as his body moves automatically to search the trees, prowling the space around him while his mind watches numbly from afar. It’s odd, he feels like a specter observing from behind the veil, unable to control his actions. The trees blur together, choking panic becoming harder to ignore with every second that passes in his search.

He finds his voice. “Kid!” It comes out all wrong and hollow as if it were the cry of a stranger instead of Din’s voice. “Kid, where are you!?”

He ducks down to the forest floor, laying on his stomach and looking through the thick overgrowth at the child's eye level. Din hopes that the lower perspective will help him figure out where to look next, searching desperately for any eye-catching areas that may have drawn the kid. Unfortunately, nothing is out of the ordinary. Not even a suspicious twig.

Din sighs shakily and rises to his knees, about to give up and start grid searching when something catches his eye causing him to flatten once more. There was a flash of body heat on his current visor setting, the reddish-orange mark alarmingly vibrant against the darkness that surrounds him. Whatever produces the heat is only a few feet away, snuffling around a felled tree for its next meal. The fuzzy form is too big to be the kid, and if it eats meat then it may pose danger to a child the size of Din’s foundling.

Din doesn’t think before he launches himself at the creature.

It shrieks as he lands heavily by its side, his hands shooting out to snatch the animal, a rodent, and flip it over, praying that its species is inclined to being herbivores. His answer comes in the half-eaten bark that tumbles from the rodent's mouth as it lets out a shriek, its wide mouth lined with round teeth and eyes dilated in fear. Din lets the creature go, his stomach tight with fear for the child and guilt for scaring the creature. It skitters away to its den, unharmed.

The Mandalorian deflates, leaning forward until the forehead of his helmet rests on the forest floor. There is an empty place shredding inside of him, a place that was quickly woven by having the child at his side. It falls apart just as quickly.

Din should’ve found him by now, a baby that young can’t hide so well as to lose a seasoned hunter. He'll go back to the settlement and scout out potential kidnappers, running the Guilds database program and comparing faces until he recognizes the culprit. Before that, he should scan the area again, just in case. Maybe the baby crawled down a den with one of those rodents. Din screws his face up in despair, turning to settle his temple onto the dirt before opening his eyes and-

There, in the hollow of the felled trunk, are two staring black pupils twinkling at him from the dark. A giggle bubbles up from the kid’s mouth, soft white bark spraying in every direction as he laughs.

Din is fucking furious.

------------------------------------------

Children's laughter fills the air like a symphony, fitting perfectly against the background noise of bird song, tittering parents, and working krill farmers. Din’s foundling runs on short legs to keep up with the human children, jumping as best he can to swat at hovering butterflies that tease the excited crowd. He fits in perfectly here, the happiest Din has seen in the short time they’ve been together. He should leave him here once the Guild calms down in a few months.

Din flinches from inside his hut, the thought hurts too much to consider.

That will be months from now anyway, he doesn’t need to think about it. The only thing he should be concerned about is scouting the woods with Dune later, searching for the raiders that plague this community. For now, he can peacefully sit in his temporary lodging and observe life on Sorgan. It is a gentle one and, try as he might bury it, Din appreciates gentle things.

“Ow! Hey, he hit me!” One of the village’s children stands clutching his arm, glaring at his female friend who glumly scrapes the ground with a shoeless foot.

“I did not! It was the new kid.” The accused girl shoots back, pointing fervently at the little, green foundling who is standing agape in the crowd. “He did it!”

Din straightens at her accusation, annoyance rising from his chest to heat his cheeks. Does she think she’ll get away with the lie? He thinks hotly.

His kid- the kid is too short to even reach any of their shoulders, let alone hit them. How dare she accuse the baby. Adjusting his helmet, Din stalks out of the hut and approaches the children, ready to defend the child against all offending claims but the other adults reach the group first. He recognizes Omera and freezes when she shoots him a sharp look, her eyes speaking wordlessly. Don't make this worse.

“What happened here?” She asks in a firm, clear tone, pulling the three children closer to her and crouching to their eye level. The baby is transfixed, his mouth still hanging open as he twists his ears curiously at the woman. “Use your words and take turns please.”

The hurt child, named Kaigo if Din remembers correctly, huffs loud enough for Din to hear from where he stands 20 feet away. Kaigo raises his chin and looks down his nose at Omera before answering her. “Winta wanted to catch the butterfly first but I’m taller than her and gooder at catching bugs, so she hit me. The baby is too short to even hit me!”

Din nods. Damn right he's too short. And the kid doesn’t hit.

“Better, not gooder,” Omera gently corrects Kaigo, brushing away a strand of hair while tersely turning to Winta, her daughter. “Winta, is this true? I’ve taught you about using your words before actions.” Winta seems to be fascinated by the dirt ground, kicking her foot and refusing to meet her mother’s gaze.

Omera tries again, “Winta, look at me please.”

“Fine! I did hit him. But everyone is obsessed with the new baby and Mandalorian, and I wanted to catch a butterfly so that everyone will like me again!” The little girl chokes up at the end of her confession, falling into Omeras lap with her arms wrapped around her mother. The baby makes a distressed sound and places his little hands on Winta’s knee.

Din takes this as his cue to join them, long strides leading him across the clearing in mere seconds. The baby runs up and hugs his ankle when he spots the Mandalorian while Kaigo retreats to his friend group with wide eyes locked on the warrior. A hush falls over the children in his presence, as the setting sun behind Din lays his shadow over their huddled group. Everyone seemingly holds their breath. The loudest sound is Omera’s soothing hand patting Winta’s back.

Din leans into one leg feeling awkward, he doesn’t know how to address the little ones firmly without scaring them. After a few tense moments, he clears his throat and turns to Winta.

“I like you Winta. You have been very kind to the child.” The words come out halting and none too graceful but he means it, Winta and Omera have gone out of their way to welcome the bounty hunter and child, bringing him food and playing with the baby with open arms. Omera lends him a gracious smile when he speaks, a lovely sight that sends warmth throughout Din’s chest. Her daughter peeks from her hiding spot in Omera’s elbow, teary eyes stubborn and flashing in the sun.

“You don’t mean it.” She shoots back, harshly drawing her eyebrows together on her young face before burrowing into her hiding spot once more. The widow sighs and stops her soothing pats, stretching her arms above her head wearily. Din’s eyes catch on the curve of her neck then dart away, busying himself with picking up the baby who has started up a babble at his feet.

“Mando is nice, Winta. He’s helping us get rid of the raiders which he wouldn’t do if he disliked you. Come on,” she pulls the little girl upright and turns her reluctant body to face Din. “He’s helping us, sweetheart.”

One of the young boys interjects, from the gaggle of children. “Yeah! He’s a good guy!”

Din nods at the boy then tries copying Omera’s earlier actions by crouching to the height of the girl, extending one glove to Winta while the other keeps the baby held against his cuirass. “I promise. Shake on it. Bounty hunter shakes are very serious.”

Petulant eyes meet his own through the visor and he sucks in a startled breath, taken aback by the perceptive look. Most people tend to miss his eyes, always just slightly off enough to leave Din feeling unseen. The physical barrier of beskar leans into an emotional one as well. He’s noticing now that the children don’t miss his eyes as often.

Winta slowly reaches out and grips his finger, shaking up and down so seriously that Din wants to laugh. He holds it back knowing it would only hurt her feelings more, instead, he says, “there. your very first guild contract.”

Omera laughs softly and stands, picking Winta up off her lap and spinning her onto her back, child limbs wrapping around her slim figure like a spider. “Winta is not allowed to hunt bounties, sorry.”

“Shame. She is very skilled. Especially when it comes to catching butterflies.” He tilts his helmet knowingly at the little girl, who grins proudly back at him before remembering that she is supposed to be upset. Din smiles at her stubbornness, holding the foundling out to her to try and appease the attitude. Winta smiles and hesitantly holds the baby’s hand while he babbles and wriggles his ears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, frowning slightly in a way that seems self-directed. “I shouldn’t have lied. I like you. And I’m sorry Kaigo!” She shouts the last part to her friend. The baby laughs and starts flapping his arms, looking between his friend and the butterflies that still flutter just above the villagers. Winta squeals in delight and takes him in her spindly arms, hugging him tightly as he continues to imitate the colorful creatures.

It’s so silly that even Din laughs.

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voidyellsforblockbois · 3 years ago

Text

(/rp: the following is the characters from dream smp, not the cc’s!)

Wilbur had been lurking. Phil hadn’t been sure until late in the day, but the kid had been in his periphery for the last several hours, regardless of what Phil had been working on. While he was feeding the sheep, Wilbur had been perched on the fence across the field, stealthily feeding the cattle sweet grass. As the sun blazed overhead and Phil had headed underground to mine, Wilbur had followed him, worked side-by-side with little speech. When Phil had returned to organize his travel belongings back into chests, Wilbur had slunk around the kitchen, starting dinner begrudgingly. Phil could feel his eyes on his back as he worked.

When he turns around to Wilbur’s intent stare for the third time in a row, Phil decides he shouldn’t just ignore this.

He sets his bag aside, still half-full from the previous day’s venture, and walks towards the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe to watch his son scurry to appear busy. He opts for the cutting board, but Phil isn’t worried. He watches him fumble with a carrot for a moment before speaking.

“Talk to me, Wilbur.” Will pauses, gaze fixed on the board under his hands, then flashes Phil an easy grin.

“Sure. What do you want to talk about?” His voice is perfectly even. If Phil didn’t know him so well, he’d second-guess his observations from the day. Maybe Wilbur just wanted to spend time with him after he’d been gone a few days.

But Phil knew the boy like his own son, and Wilbur was never quiet.

“You’ve been brooding all day. Tell me what’s going on.” Wilbur laughs in reply.

“I’m a teenager Phil, we get that way.”

“Mhm.” Phil doesn’t try to keep the disbelief from his voice. He moves from the doorway with a rustle of fabric, and watches Wilbur’s shoulders tense at the movement, then relax a little as he sinks into one of the chairs at the table. He sighs. “Will, I’m not going to be mad. I can’t know what’s going on unless you tell me.”

“You can’t intimidate me,” Wilbur snaps. Phil furrows his brow. He’d never intended that.

“I don’t doubt that. You’ve never been intimidated easily.” Phil says slowly, watching Wilbur’s face.

Wilbur stops his movements, laying the knife down on the board painstakingly slowly. His brow is furrowed as he picks his words. Phil can’t keep a fond exasperation from his expression, but fortunately Will’s gaze is fixed on his hands in thought.

“Take me with you, next time.” Phil tilts his head, studying Wilbur’s intent expression.

“I can’t, Will.” There comes his guilt, and Will’s darkened expression. “We talked about this before, mate. I can’t carry you anymore, and something as small as a trading run would take weeks. The farm can’t be alone that long-”

“Then let’s leave the farm!” Wilbur raises his voice. “We don’t need this, we’re both just fine with nothing.”

Phil studies his son. He’s grown a lot in the last few years, though he retains his weedy stature and sly eyes, and he’s nearly taller than Phil is. He wonders how tall he’s going to get. Phil isn’t exactly a short man.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried the vagabond lifestyle before. Both of them were accustomed to wandering. When they’d first met, Wilbur had been carrying everything he found meaningful on his back, and in all the time since he’d never heard Wilbur speak wistfully of anywhere in particular. As far as he could figure, the kid had been wandering as long as his legs could walk. In that respect, the two of them weren’t that different.

But Phil could read an expression. He had seen the melancholy that snuck into Wilbur’s eyes as they passed homes glowing with light, generations of work put into the soil they passed over. Wilbur spoke of reliance with contempt, sneering down those that needed the support of a family, but when he grew quiet again it was like an unspoken plea. Stability was meant to be good for children, right?

So he’d settled with Wilbur, nestled at the foot of a soaring mountain peak, a few short miles from a village – small but sufficient for their minor trading needs. Wilbur wasn’t fond of admitting it, at first, but he thrived off the permanence. He was a good builder even without Phil’s advice, and learned quickly. They were mostly self-sufficient, but occasionally Phil would take trips to seek out more exotic foods and enchantments that they couldn’t access where they were. He tried to keep these expeditions short, flying with the crows and returning just as directly, spending no more time in each place than was required of him. But he knew Wilbur noticed his absence.

“Do you really want to leave?” Phil doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. Wilbur hangs onto every word like a lifeline, even when he’s pretending not to.

“I-” Wilbur drops his gaze, chewing his words. It’s enough of an answer for Phil.

“Will,” he says softly, “sit down a moment.” The kid (young man, almost) doesn’t move for a moment, lost in his thoughts. Phil repeats himself, and Wilbur all but collapses into the chair, gangly limbs sprawling around him and over the table. He rests his head in his hands. Phil leans over the table, hands resting on the coarse wood. Support, if Wilbur wants to take it. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice is gentle.

Wilbur mumbles something under his breath, completely incomprehensible to Phil.

“Will,” he prompts.

“Thought you wouldn’t be back,” Wilbur mumbles, eyes fixed on the grain of the wood beneath him. It looks like it costs a lot for him to say it aloud. “You were gone for so long, Phil. I thought…” he trails, unwilling to finish the thought. Phil feels his heart soften.

“It was only a few days.” Wilbur looks at him incredulously.

“A few days?” he barks a laugh, but it sounds more like shout. “It’s been like two weeks Phil. I thought something had happened.” Phil frowns at him. Two weeks?

“That can’t be-” Phil cut himself off at the sharp glare Wilbur sent his way. Wilbur’s ragged tone didn’t lie. “That wasn’t my intention, Will.” Wilbur doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

“Well, it’s what happened.”

It’s not impossible.

“Why didn’t you mention it sooner?” Wilbur spent the whole day sitting on this. Why? The kid hesitates, tipping his head forward so his hair obscures his eyes, a telltale sign of emotion brewing in him. Always another layer to hide behind, another mask to obscure his true thoughts, even after years of living together. Phil supposes he’d not too different.

“It was fine. Not like I can’t get by on my own.” And he wasn’t wrong. He was almost an adult by now, after all. But…

“I’m sorry, Wilbur.” Phil said earnestly, leaning across the table to fix Wilbur with an intent gaze. His eyes were on the grain of the table, absently running his fingers over the thin veins of the wood. “I didn’t mean to leave for that long, but that doesn’t make it alright.” Wilbur hums.

He was really upset about this. Wilbur draws in a breath, and Phil forces his attention to it to avoid the twisting guilt in his stomach.

“It’s… it doesn’t matter. I know time’s weird for you.” The guilt feels like its crawling from his gut into his throat. Wilbur’s voice is harsh with restrained emotion. “I’m alright on my own, Phil, don’t worry about me.” Wilbur looks up now, a smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Will.” He gives a questioning look, attempted innocence, but his eyes are glittering. Phil laughs slightly. “You’re a shit liar.” Wilbur scowls at him.

“I am not!”

“You are a tad, yeah.” Wilbur grumbles again, disagreeing, and Phil cuts him off. “You don’t have to be cagey about these things, mate. It’s what I’m doing here, after all.” He hopes his voice has more confidence than he’s feeling. Phil’s never been good at the whole… emotions thing, let alone with a teenage kid. When he was that age… his life had been different, at least. His few memories of it were hazy, clouded with time and distance.

He did remember struggling to make words of his feelings, and wings curling over his, a rich voice rumbling in his ears, calm and steady and confident, even though he couldn’t remember exactly what they’d said to him. The words never came easier, hell, even now he struggled, but leeching the confidence from someone else…

It had been helpful, if nothing else.

So, even though he’s tempted to stumble through some explanation, some apology (or better yet, change the topic of conversation entirely) he holds his tongue.

The dark shadow of his wing sweeps the floor of their kitchen, dusty at the corners, to curl around his son’s shoulders, which stiffen for just a moment. Phil holds his breath, waiting, and Wilbur relaxes after a moment, leaning into the wing’s embrace.

He lets his breath out. Wilbur’s shaking, just slightly.

“I don’t want to be alone.” It’s a whisper so quiet Phil barely catches it under the blanket of feathers. Still, he hears it all the same.

“I know.” Phil tucks his chin over Will’s head, gathering the gangly lad into his arms. (Cheek pressed up against his chest, dark feathers curling around him, voice calm and confident.) “I won’t let it happen again.”

(a snippet from this)

#my writing #dream smp #wilbur soot #dsmp philza #fanfic #im actually really happy with some writing for once so you all get to see it #just some soft hurt/comfort #also good dad philza i promise #dsmp #wilbur #ae

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demoanais · 4 years ago

Text

This will all be moot in a month but I feel like I'm in danger of being misunderstood so I wanted to make my position more clear for the record:

I AM happy Sharon is shown to be hurt, angry and cynical. She's more than earned that. EVC is perfect for playing with the dark side of her character, she has plenty of great experience to tackle that duality. Exploring deeper layers of Sharon is a welcome shift.

I AM happy that the show acknowledges that Sharon was wronged after merely doing the right thing and has long been suffering the consequences of a punishment that vastly exceeds the crime. Of course that's changed her outlook, how could it not?

I AM happy that Sharon has still managed to build a stable life for herself despite all this pain; she is extremely self sufficient and capable and takes great pride in that. It's the emotional blow that stings her the most - she has survived but it never needed to be this hard.

I AM happy that she didn't welcome sam and bucky with open arms and chat like nothing was wrong. She gave up everything and look where it landed her; they were being naive and insensitive to think she'd so happily jump back into the fray for their sakes with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

I AM happy that despite her misgivings and distrust, she still lent her strength to sam and bucky's efforts because at her core, that's who she is. She hasn't lost her sense of morality even if her heart isn't exactly in it like it used to be.

I AM unhappy about the execution of all of the above.

For example, you have Sharon ask about new cap. Before bucky can elaborate, she cuts him to the quick by accusing him of blind loyalty to the mantle. But that isn't accurate. If bucky's so-called arc is anything, it's demonstrating how his insecurity and lack of direction are causing his grudges to overtake his better judgement.

For him, *everything* is personal. He was steve's friend before he was captain america's, and that's where meaning dwells for him. He doesn't want the shield back or blame sam for giving it up too easily because of some idealogical obsession with 'stars and stripes bullshit' - he thinks it's a slight to steve that sam didn't honor his choice and that it's more than just government issue gear to be passed around. It represents many things (many of them bad, as the show points out) but he doesn't care about all that. To bucky it may as well be a family heirloom, considering what little he has left from his former life.

Of course, this is all what he has to overcome, to (re) establish his own position and identity in the world, and sharon isn't as privy to those struggles as the audience is. Allowing bucky and/or sam to actually elaborate on their issues with walker could have created an in for her to point out some hypocrisy or naivety on their part. But the opportunity was swiftly torpedoed because we really, really need the audience to get that sharon 2.0 is 'awful' now.

So what could she have criticized bucky for instead? Lucky for her, that problem was looking her right in the face drinking her expensive liquor. There is very little justification for the stunt bucky pulled behind sam's back by freeing zemo, and I can only assume consequences are around the corner. Yet again, bucky isn't seeing big picture, he's consumed by his own personal relationship to zemo and the super serum. He acted unilaterally based on his own fears and self doubts but wants to present his actions as logical and well reasoned. Zemo can help in the short term, but what is the cost?

Sharon, being the seasoned cynic she is now, would have seen through that in an instant. How difficult would it have been to jab at the irony, bucky being 'free' according to his therapist but chained to this person who used him as a tool, who continues to exploit his weaknesses, who seems to be far more in control than bucky is in the situation they're all in. Bucky is trying to prove something, he doesn't seem to be sure what that is yet, but he's stubbornly blinded himself to the possibility that he's going about it the wrong way. That is something that sharon could have rightfully called out, but for some reason bucky's most egregious flaw is presented as.... being steve's best friend.

Then you have her dealings with sam, who's problems are more from the other side of the spectrum. He isn't really allowed to bring his personal feelings to the table, he has to deal with the intense pressure of taking on a loaded persona when it may not actually ring true to him in his heart. He also trusted steve and had faith in what that specific cap stood for, but does that mean he's willing to put the whole system on his own shoulders now? He's trying to think above and beyond, about the legacies before him, about his own place in history when all is said and done.

Sam is all about big picture at this stage, and his journey would presumably have him work from the outside in. That's why the glimpses of his family life are invaluable, they give us that contrast between his day to day realities and the loftier, more abstract idealism of the falcon's (or cap's) heroism. His exploration is about staking his own personal claim on the symbolism of that shield, not just for his own sake but for the sake of those who will now look to him as a leader and an inspiration.

To be fair, I think some of sharon's dialogue with sam is marginally better, but still ultimately misses the mark. I envisioned an exchange where she might belittle his decision to continue acting as a representative of the same organization that failed her so spectacularly, suggesting he should tread carefully lest he find himself discarded once the government no longer finds him useful or compliant.

She...sort of got close to saying that? If I squint really hard I guess? But it's off because it's less about the posturing and politics of their roles and of 'the machine' so to speak, than it is about striving to do right when you can. It feels like she's criticizing the inherent value of what they try do rather than the shortcomings of the framework itself. If I get vibes that this sharon seems to waffle on whether or not she regrets what she did in CACW, that's not a good thing.

Bureaucracy, red-tape, iconography - all of the things walker is being parceled with; can you disentangle yourself while refusing to leave the system in the same state as you found it? If I want to be charitable I can chalk this up to semantics, but they haven't given me many reasons to be charitable so far.

Then you have the whole utterly nonsensical bargaining over her pardon (the stupidity of that particular exchange pointed out multiple times on reddit, of all places) and sharon's not-so-subtle suggestion that sam is basically lying to her when he says he can get her pardoned.

If she's trying to say she doesn't believe he actually has the pull to accomplish that, or that he's underestimating how difficult it would be, it's one thing. But saying that he's merely 'pretending' to clear her name is completely unfair. I don't care how ~jaded~ sharon is, there's no plausible reason for her to consider sam capable of such a lie and I find that an insult to them both. Naturally, I place blame squarely on kolstad's writing, and not on sharon herself. It's plain as day he didn't give a wink to a single implication he made with his script, nor does he care to do so.

Am I foolish for thinking her arc could be handled with more coherence? I like to think I'm already controlling for the lackluster quality of MCU writing in general; this actually surprised me. I expect basic and juvenile, but at least there's consistency. Frankly, I think Feige put a little too much slack in the reins here and the characters are paying the price.

Could I be crying wolf too soon before giving everything a chance to pan out? Of course, that's always a possibility and I'd be more than glad to eat crow if things turn out palatable in the end. Are the odds favorable that this will happen? Magic 8 ball says don't count on it, and I'm not in the habit of constantly lowering my standards until they're miraculously met.

#sharon carter #emily vancamp #anti mcu #sambuckysharon

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jamaisjoons · 5 years ago

Text

special package | jhs ft knj

⏤ 𝚜 𝚞 𝚖 𝚖 𝚊 𝚛 𝚢 : while on tour, your boyfriend sends you a special gift to make you feel less lonely

⏤ 𝚙 𝚊 𝚒 𝚛 𝚒 𝚗 𝚐 : boyfriend!namjoon x reader x sexbot!hoseok

⏤ 𝚐 𝚎 𝚗 𝚛 𝚎 : smut, lowkey (highkey) crack

⏤ 𝚠 𝚘 𝚛 𝚍 𝚌 𝚘 𝚞 𝚗 𝚝 : 9k

⏤ 𝚠 𝚊 𝚛 𝚗 𝚒 𝚗 𝚐 𝚜 : mutual masturbation, directed female masturbation, male masturbation, phone/video sex, dirty talk, breast/nipple play, cum play/eating, dom!Namjoon bless, sub!Reader, squirting, use of sextoys (i think because I guess hobi is a sex toy?), hobi with a GIANT and I mean MASSIVE cock, blowjob, handjob, praise, deepthroating, gagging, face fucking, lots of cum, like gallons of cum, fingering, pussy eating, overstimulation, ass eating, ass fingering, penetration, riding, unprotected sex (don’t do this), rough sex, creampie, slight cum inflation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms

⏤ 𝚊 / 𝚗 : I missed my boys, especially writing some filth for the love of my love jung hoseok so HERE YOU GO! This completely self indulgent sexbot Hobi smut that no one asked for and yet what everyone needed with a featuring from our husband namjoon. this also isn’t edited cause it’s 3am and i’ve been working on this since about 12pm so,,,, if there are any mistakes or my style of writing changes you can chalk it up to my energy slowly draining during the middle before picking back up when the end was nearing sksksksks but i will change it all when i get the time to edit!!

⇥ this was inspired by an animated porn found on pornhub called special delivery // i kept forgetting to add this yikes

Sitting on your sofa, you stared blankly at the screen, idly scrolling through Netflix while looking for something to watch. The pizza boxes sat on the side beside you, the leftover pizza long since cold. Letting out a sigh, you pushed away your laptop, boredom striking. You were more than tired of watching films and series. It’s all you’d been doing lately. Rubbing your eyes in exhaustion, you got up, grabbing the pizza box and glass before sluggishly walking to the kitchen.

You’re midst placing the cardboard in the recycling when there’s a sudden rhythmic beeping. Body immediately perking up, you rush over to your laptop, grin on your face when you read the name. Quickly bouncing on the sofa, you swiftly fix your hair before tightening the robe around your chest, not wanting to ruin the surprise. Once you think you’re presentable, you accept the call.

“Joonie!” You squeal, smiling brightly as your boyfriend’s face comes into view. Namjoon waves back eagerly before you both stop, staring at each other. Eyes wander over your faces until you’re both left smiling softly at each other.

“I miss you” You both say at the same time, laughing softly. Namjoon runs his fingers through his hair, messing up his locks before sighing.

“Sorry this tour is taking so long” Namjoon apologises but you shake your head, smiling encouragingly.

“This is your dream Joon! As much as I miss you, I wouldn’t trade it. Whenever you go live on Vapp or I see fancams, you always look so happy. And you’re touring with the Agust D. This is your dream come true” You reply, Namjoon biting his lip.

“I don’t deserve you. I love you” Namjoon replies, chocolate eyes deep and full of emotion. You smile cheekily.

“I think you’re going to love me even more”

“Oh? Why is that?” Namjoon asks, quirking his eyebrow. You bite your lip, before slowly pulling your robe apart. Namjoon chokes, coughing up a fit as his eyes take in your lingerie clad figure.

“Fucking hell babe! You can’t just pull that out of nowhere” Namjoon reprimands, but the entire time, his eyes are focused on the way your breasts look covered in the sheer black bralette, your nipples on display and already hard.

“Are you saying you don’t like your present?” You ask, eyes pooling with lust as your smirk slightly.

“Oh, I’m definitely not complaining. Take the robe off, lemme see you” Namjoon orders and you’re body is automatically obeying, trained to heed every single one of his commands. Kneeling on the sofa, your slowly untie the bow, letting the silk robe slowly fall off of your body. Namjoon sucks in a sharp breath, mouth drying as he takes you in, knees slightly spread.

“Turn around” comes his next command and you slowly shift, bracing your hands on the couch as you slowly bend over, exposing the fleshy cheeks of your ass. Namjoon lets out a small groan, followed by a quiet ‘fuck’, the vowels drawn out. You try and suppress the triumphant grin, but you know better than anyone how much your boyfriend would love the completely sheer lace covering your ass, ribbons of silk running across the top hem before tying into a bow.

“Fuck, that’s a beautiful sight. Spread your ass and bend over baby” Namjoon orders. Biting your lip, you follow his direction, Namjoon sucking in another breath when he sees the way the lace darkens and clings to your pussy lips as you grow more aroused. You cheekily shake your hips, ass slightly jiggling. Namjoon’s eyes stayed trained on the way your ass ripples under your skin, his cock already hardening.

“Do you like your present?” You ask, turning around and looking at him over your shoulder. Namjoon nods, somewhat at a loss for words.

“Definitely. Turn around and spread your legs baby.”

You turn back on the sofa, making yourself comfortable before spreading your legs, feet braced on either side. Namjoon shifts slightly, unbuttoning a couple buttons of his shirt before clearing his throat.. His eyes slowly draw up from the space between your thighs, up over your stomach and breasts before staring directly into your eyes. You swallow thickly, hairs standing on the back of your spine as you grow eager with lust.

“I want you to do exactly what I say baby. Now, play with your tits but don’t take or your bra and don’t touch your nipples” Namjoon commands, voice deep with authority. Hands automatically move to cup your breasts, fingertips brushing over the lace before squeezing with a moan. Namjoon watches you lightly massage and roll your breasts, eyes trained on the way they move about in the lace. Your palms brush the sensitive underside of your breasts, eliciting a slight gasp from your lips as your pussy lets out a gush of arousal. You can already feel the sticky heat between your thighs, clit pulsing as your cunt quite literally weeps for attention.

“Fuck, I want to draw this out but it’s been so long. Take off the bra, my sweet” Namjoon says, urgency laced in his voice. He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Swiftly, with expert fingers, you unclasp your bra, slipping it off your chest and throwing it, uncaring about where it lands. You relish in the freeing sensation, hands once again moving to cup your breasts, fingers and thumbs dangerously close to your pointed nipples.

“Lick your fingers and play with your nipples” Namjoon’s voice carries across the speaker in your laptop. You push two fingers into your mouth, tongue swirling around them until they’re sufficiently soaked. Pulling them out of your mouth, you run them across your hard nipples, shivering as the cold pulls the buds even tauter than they already were. You roll the bud between your forefinger and thumb, pinching and pulling them, relishing in the slight pain.

You watch Namjoon shift once again, arm moving as he palms his trouser covered shaft. You pout slightly, bottom lip sticking out as you realise you can’t see what he’s doing. Making your displeasure known, Namjoon chuckles at you. He slowly gets up, grabbing his laptop and carrying it over to the bed before placing it down in front of him. You watch as he slowly strips, smooth honey skin slowly being revealed until he’s left in his dark boxers. The laptop moves again, resting on his thick thighs as you’re left with nothing but the view of the slight rolls of his stomach, obstructed by the bulge in his boxers, head slightly propped up by his pillows.

You squeeze your nipples slightly harder, letting out a small gasp and wriggling on the sofa under your own ministrations, eyes focused on the way Namjoon’s large palm runs over his boxer covered cock. Your eyes trail over the wiry hairs on his lower abdomen, gulping slightly as you close your eyes, imagining what was under them. The shape and colour of his cock was practically ingrained in your mind, you could picture it perfectly in your mind’s eye.

The two of you stay like that for another five minutes, drawing out the inevitable. Time passes agonisingly slowly, your cunt crying out until you’re practically sitting in your own arousal on the leather sofa. The feeling is slightly uncomfortable, your panties stuck to your lips while your thighs were sticky despite how spread they were. Namjoon’s own boxers become slightly wet, arousals dripping from his cockhead before soaking into the cotton of his dark grey boxers. You whine slightly, thighs shifting ever so slightly closer as you try to alleviate the ache between them. Namjoon’s eyes catch the imperceptibly small movement.

“Take your panties off slowly, I want to see the way they unstick from your cunt” Namjoon finally says, voice horse with lust, deciding he’d drawn it out long enough. You can’t seem to move quick enough, wanting the relief your body so desperately craved. Fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, slowly shimmying them down your hips before slowly, very slowly, peeling them off of your pussy. Namjoon’s watches carefully, loving the way strings of your arousal slowly cling to the material of your panties, stretching before finally breaking, falling back onto your lips. You slide them off of your thighs, not even bothering to kick them off as they stay hooked around one of your legs before you’re spreading your thighs again.

“I wanna see you get those fingers sticky baby. Show me how much you’re missing me” Namjoon orders, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Your throat goes dry as it comes into view, standing front and centre in front of the camera as Namjoon fists the shaft slowly, thumb brushing against his head and rubbing precum onto his shaft as lube. He’s as thick and beautiful as you remember, pulsing slightly under his fist. Your fingers brush through your lips, whimpering as you’re finally stimulated. You run the pads of your fingers up and down your slit, to the same pace as Namjoon’s fists, mewling and whining as your arousal gathers onto your hands, wettening them.

“Pull your hand out and show me” Namjoon says. You bite your lip, a couple seconds passing as you struggle to pull your fingers away from your needy cunt. Finally doing as he says, you hold your fingers up to the camera, showing him the strings of your arousal leaking from your hand.

“Put them in your mouth and lick them clean” Namjoon demands and you’re swiftly bringing your fingers to your lips, licking the strings up dramatically slow as Namjoon’s eyes darken.

“Wait. Brush them across your lips, I want you to taste yourself for a long time” Namjoon directs and your eyes widen slightly before you’re brushing your juices across your lips as instructed. Namjoon groans, fist tightening around his cock as he jerks slightly, watching the way you lick your lips before brushing your cunt juice across them again.

“Okay now lick them clean. Show me how you’d suck my cock if I was there” Namjoon instructs and you’re quickly wrapping your lips around your fingers, swirling your tongue messily around them before pulling them out completely clean.

“Fuck, you’re a complete sin. Push those fingers into your cunt and get them wet again. Then I wanna see you gag on them” Namjoon directs and you feel yourself gush, the puddle on your leather sofa only growing larger. You swirl your fingers around your cunt, your walls rippling in anticipation. Then, you swiftly push them in, groaning and bucking at the stretch. Pumping them once, then twice, you try and get them as wet as you could, knowing it would please your boyfriend. Pulling them out, Namjoon watches as you push them deep into your mouth, gagging around them, eyes watering as you lick them clean.

“Joon, please” You whimper, fingers leaving your mouth. You were so wired, you were sure that any stimulation would have you cumming in seconds.

“What do you want sweet? Tell me” Namjoon asks. You whine, fingers twitching in anticipation.

“I want to cum”

“Then do it. Fuck yourself with those pretty fingers” Namjoon orders and you immediately shove your fingers as deep into your cunt as you could, practically screaming out his name. You pump them in and out of you, loving the sensation of finally being filled up, Namjoon’s fist pumping harder.

“I’m gonna… fuck i’m gonna cum soon baby. Play with your clit, I want you to cum with me” Namjoon commands, your other hand joining as you furiously rub your clit.

“That’s it sweet. Bring yourself over. Fuck. Fuck. Gods, do you know how hot you look right now? I wish I was there. I miss how you taste and how you feel on my fingers and tongue. Fuck you’re so beautiful. Cum for me baby” Namjoon speaks, letting out little stilted moans and groans as he felt his balls tighten.

“Joonie. Fuck. I miss you baby. I miss you cock in me. Miss you filling me up with your cum. My pussy feels so empty without your cum in me” You stutter out, voice slightly raspy as you pant in front of your computer. Namjoon lets out a little groan before moaning your name, your words throwing him over the edge. You watch the way his cock pulses, twitching as he shoots his cum all over his abdomen, milky white rivers running over his smooth skin.

“Fu-ck” You scream, cumming around your fingers at the sight. Your fingers continue moving, pumping in and out of your spasming walls as your other hand continues rubbing your clit. You fingers push slightly deeper, pressing into the soft sensitive spot inside you. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull and you lose yourself even more into your orgasm as intoxication pleasure and relief washes over you.

“Fuck that’s hot” Namjoon says, watching as your pussy gushes, squirting all over the sofa. You jerk your hands away, head thrown back on the couch, chest heaving as you come down from your high. You feel the wet pool of your cum around you, thighs quivering and soaking in your juices.

“You’ve made such a mess baby. How are you gonna clean it up?” Namjoon asks and you sluggishly lift your head to stare at him in the computer screen. He’s looking at you with dark eyes, eyes set on your pussy and the puddle around you.

“Joon?” You ask nervously. His eyes trail back to your eyes, still dark as he idly pumps his cock.

“Lick it clean. Good girls always clean up their mess” Namjoon says and you blush under his gaze. Your eyes trail down to the mess and you gulp before nodding, wanting nothing more than to please him. You slowly shift, Namjoon groaning at the wet sloshing sound. He watches you get on your knees, back facing him as you start licking your cum off of the sofa. He can’t see much apart from your slightly swollen pussy lips, but just imagining you licking up your own cum has him fisting his cock again.

Namjoon pumps his cock, listening to the slurping and licking sounds of you eating your own cum as your cunt drips with your left over arousal. A few minutes later, you finally turn around, done cleaning up your mess. He takes in your flushed, wet face. Cum is practically dripping from your lips, small rivers of cum dripping down your chest, catching the light as they shine. He watches you lick your lips, undoubtedly tasting yourself and he’s instantaneously cumming on the spot. You watch as he adds to the cum already on his abdomen, wishing you were there to lick him up.

“Fuck. it’s been so long. I miss you” Namjoon says breathlessly as he comes down from his high. You nod, heart aching slightly. You missed cuddling with his in your mutual post orgasm haze.

“It’s been lonely without you. You’re usually gone for months at a time and I just… I don’t know what to do without you” You say, chest tightening. Namjoon’s eyes soften.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard on you. I’ll find a way to fix it” Namjoon promises and you nod, biting your lip. How was he supposed to fix it? He couldn’t very well just come home. Suddenly his eyes light up and you instantly know he has an idea.

“What is it?” You ask but he’s shaking his head.

“I just remembered something. I have to go. Expect a special package soon. I love you” Namjoon says, blowing you a kiss before cutting off the call. You stare at your screen in surprise, slightly perturbed by your boyfriend’s sudden disappearance. You shake your head before stretching, grimacing at the dry, sticky feeling of your body. Getting up, you grab your robe, heading for the shower.

Two weeks later, you’re surprised when your doorbell rings. Swiftly, you answer the door, startled by the delivery man with carrying a package almost the same size as him.

“____-ssi?” He asks, checking over the paperwork.

“That’s me yes” You say, accepting the pen and clipboard he offers you. Once you sign your name, you return the paperwork to him, watching him leave with a bow. When he’s out of your sight, you turn back to the package, wondering what the hell it could be. You certainly hadn’t ordered anything recently, and definitely not a package that large.

Scratching your head, you circle around the box, wondering what it could be and who it was from before sighing. The only way you’d be able to figure it out would be by bringing it into the apartment. Luckily for you, it was on wheels and you wouldn’t need to somehow break your back getting it into your home. Walking behind the package, you pushed, surprised by the amount of strength you needed to move it despite it being on wheels.

“Whatever this is, it better be worth this effort” You huff to yourself, blowing the hair out of your eyes as you finally manage to dock it into your living room. Your surprised by the card sticking out of one of the seams. Plucking it up, you open it, eyes widening in bewilderment as you read it.

“Sorry you’ve been feeling lonely without me. Thought this would help you when you’re missing me. Just don’t let him replace me winky face - Namjoon” You read out loud. Him? What the hell did he mean?

Inside the card is also a little instruction manual for opening the package. Skimming through the card, you nod before placing them on your coffee table. You unclip the locks on either side as per the instructions before carefully pulling the lid off, placing it on the ground.

“Okay Joon what the fuck?” You say out loud as you examine the content of the package. Stood inside was a five foot ten man, with wavy dark red hair and glowing honey skin. Weirdly, that wasn’t the strangest thing about the man in a box. No, it was the fact that he was completely naked with the largest cock you had ever laid your eyes on. It was probably only slightly thinner than your wrist and about as long as your forearm. The sight of it managed to both ignite your curiosity and fear at the same time.

Your eyes wandered over his figure, from his lean muscles all the way down to sculpted thighs as you tried your hardest to ignore his cock. But really how could you? When it was the longest and thickest shaft you had ever seen? Topped with a pretty pink mushroom tip and dusky rose veins. Even with how weirded out you were, you couldn’t help but admit that it was a beautiful dick. You slowly approach it, your curiosity winning out over your fear. They always did say curiosity killed the cat. But satisfaction brought it back. Reaching out gingerly, you poke the penis, before jerking back.

When nothing happens, you grow bolder, approaching it more until you’re only inches apart. You place your palm cautiously on the cock, slightly in awe of it. The palm of your hand barely fit over the tip, only drawing more attention to how impossibly big it was. You wrapped your hand around it, pumping the shaft once and aweing over how incredibly lifelike it felt.

“Did Joon really get me a sex doll or is this just a real person?” You mumble to yourself in your quiet apartment. But also, why did he get you a sex doll? How was a dildo with legs supposed to cure your intimacy issues? Also why a sex doll? Why not a teddy bear or a stuffed toy like a normal boyfriend?

Moving your hand from his cock, you place it on his abdomen; brows shooting into your hairline at how lifelike he feels. This must have been an expensive sex doll with how real and hard his abs feel. Running your hand up his chest, you brush over his nipples before jerking back when the nipple pushes into his skin in almost a button-like way. The sound of machinery whirring fills the air, not unlike the sound computers make when they’re booting up. You quickly jerk back, almost falling over when the sex doll’s eye open on their own.

You quickly retreat backwards, half crab walking half dragging yourself when it - he? - steps forward. Oh god, what if Namjoon had just bought you a sex slave or something? He felt real enough. The man looked around curiously, before looking down at you, eyes lighting up in the most unnatural shade of gold. Once his eyes were laid on you, he nods, eyes darkening to a shade of dark honey brown.

“Hello. I am Jung Hoseok model Hobi. I was designed by Big Hit Adult Entertainment for your pleasure. It is nice to meet you” He introduces causing your jaw to drop. What. The. Fuck. His voice was sweet and yet robotic at the same time. Your mind is far too jumbled to think straight, causing you to gape at the man-thing in agog.

“Model Hobi?” You finally manage to stammer out, causing him to nod once again.

“Yes HOBI. It is the phonetic sound for the acronym H.O.B.I. It stands Handy Orgasm Buddy Intelligence” Hobi relates and you blanch, jaw dropping even wider.

“A what?” You ask dumbly, unable to comprehend the entire situation.

“Handy Orgasm Buddy Intelligence. HOBI. I am a sexbot” He says simply, looking at you with robotic curiosity.

“A SEXBOT?” You finally scream, mind whizzing a hundred miles a minute. Namjoon had gotten you a sexbot? Suddenly his comment about not wanting to be replaced makes sense.

“Yes. Are you not pleased?” He asks and you quickly shake your head. You weren’t even sure how you were feeling.

“No! No, it’s not that. I’m just surprised my boyfriend’s solution to me being lonely was to get me a sexbot” You say, eyes fixated on his cock. Really, how were you not supposed to fixate on it when he was currently stood over you and you were eye level with it?!

“I see. You are staring” He points out, causing your face to heat.

“I’m sorry! I’m just… it looks so real and it’s… so big” You say, voice filled with bewilderment and awe.

“Thank you! It is made of a blend of thermoplastic elastomer and rubber giving it an exceptionally realistic skin feel. Paired with muscle changing nanotechnology I am the top of the line model. Other features include-” Hobi begins but you quickly shake your hands.

“That’s enough! Thank you! This is already weird enough as it is” You say. Hobi immediately stops speaking, cocking his head to the side.

“Weird? Does my body not please you? I am supposed to be the top of the-” He begins, causing you to cut him off once again.

“No! I’m sorry! It does… please me. Very much” You say, realising how weird the words sound to you, your eyes still fixated on his long cock. He steps closer towards you and now you see that, despite looking incredibly realistic and lifelike, he moves robotically.

“Perhaps touching it will help?” He says, moving closer until he’s right in front of you, surprising you. His cock stands upright, almost smacking you in your face and you briefly wonder if it’s cumbersome to walk around with a cock that big. You gingerly reach out, touching it. You’d done it once already, why would it be weird if you did it a second time? Even if he was moving.

“Oh wow… it feels warm and even more real” You say, palm brushing against the tip. Now that he was on and not lifelessly lying in a box, you could feel him pulse under you, as if blood was being pumped into it. It even felt as warm as a cock did. The company clearly had gone all out developing him and even more than that, you were starting to see why he was the top of the line model.

“Is it less weird now?” He asks curiously and you have to suppress a dry laugh. In what world was this not weird?

“I guess” You say, hand smoothing over his cock till you reach the base. Your cunt clenches slightly as it twitches under you. You hadn’t realised exactly how much you’d been missing a real dick, or well, in this case a realistic dick, until you feel him pulse under your touch. It had been months since Namjoon had left on tour and you’d been left with nothing but sex video chats, your fingers and lifeless silicon sex toys to get you through. But now that Hoseok was here in front of you, you wanted nothing more than to take him in your mouth so you could find out if he felt the same way your boyfriend did in your mouth. Besides, this was a gift from Namjoon and it’d be a shame to waste it.

“Can I… can I suck you off?” You finally ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Hoseok chuckles at you, lips curling upwards and dimples forming in the top corners. You can’t help but ponder the unfairness of it all. For what reason would a sexbot need the most adorable dimples? Not to mention an even cute lip mole. The attention to details were astounding. Briefly, you wonder just how much Namjoon had splurged on him.

“You do not need my consent. I am a sexbot. I was built to please you. Therefore, if you want to and if it pleases you, you may perform oral upon me” Hoseok says, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Must you speak and act like that? It’s so… oddly robotic for how realistic you look” You say.

“That is because I am a robot”

“I know that but-”

“I have displeased you. Let me reassess” Hoseok says and you watch as his eyes glow amber once again, the sound of machines whirring filling your otherwise quiet home. When his eyes darken again, he turns to you, moving closer until his cock is practically pressed against your face. His hand sits authoritatively on your head, keeping your head pressed against his shaft.

“Suck me off” He commands and the sudden domineering tone in his voice has your pussy gushing. You shift so you’re on your knees, thighs pressed and rubbing together to try and alleviate the growing ache in your cunt.

“You get off on being dominated. I will retain that information in my memory card” Hoseok says, returning to his robotic self before pushing your face into his shaft once again, “now suck me off” he continues. You almost get whiplash from the complete change in personality.

Pressing your face against his dick, you run your nose over the length, admiring the slight musky, citrus scent that surrounds him. Your lips brush against the entirety of his lengthy shaft until you reach is soft pink tip. Precum drips from his cock, thick and translucent white and you quickly lick at it, suckling his cockhead as if it were a popsicle while his arousal drips down your throat. You pull away, licking your lips and admiring the pleasant pineapple taste.

“If you are not pleased, I can change the taste to what you prefer. Flavours I have built in include chocolate, mango, pineapple, strawberry tropical and vanilla milkshake” Hoseok says and as sweet at the pineapple tastes, you can’t help but want to try out all the flavours.

“Vanilla milkshake sounds good right now”

“Very well” He responds, and you hear a mechanical whirring before he nods at you.

“Affirmative. The change is complete” He informs as his cock begins dripping even more precum than before. You wrap as much of your mouth as will fit around his enormously bulbous cockhead, suckling at the tip and licking the slit as you relish in the taste, palming his cock with your hands. You pull your lips off, licking around the seam of his tip before pressing kissing along the underside, softly kissing his balls.

“Do you like when I do this?” You ask, used to being praised by Namjoon whenever you took him in your mouth.

“I do not necessarily enjoy things the same way organic life does. I am a sexbot, built for your pleasure” Hoseok reiterates cause you to frown, more than put off by his words. Hoseok realises his mistake and pets your head.

“I like it” He says and the slight high inclination in his tone has you thinking he’s completely adorable. You laugh it off, shaking your head.

“I enjoy the sight of you on your knees” Hoseok says, voice slightly husky. You look at him up in surprise from your position on the floor, blushing under his intense gaze. He smiles at you, causing you to smile back, noticing how pretty it is. You return your attention to his dick, pressing your tongue against his length, licking along the shaft and tasting him. You tried to cover the entirety of his cock in your saliva, licking and pressing kisses onto his dick. His hand fists into your head, pushing you further down onto his as he thrusts slightly, rubbing his length up and down your face.

Your hand slowly moves into your leggings, bypassing your underwear and heading straight for your clit. You dip a finger into your cunt, feeling the sticky heat between your thighs before moving to rub your clit slowly. Your hips automatically grind onto your hand as they expertly strum your bundle of nerves. You moan against Hoseok’s cock, humping your fingers, pussy spasming and dripping all over yourself until you’re aching for him to push his enormous cock into you. He pulls your face off of him by your hair, instead grabbing the base of his shaft and smacking you in the face with his heavy dick.

“How do you feel about degradation?” He asks and you chuckle.

“I prefer praise” You reply and he nods, pushing his tip against your lips.

“Take me in kitten” He says and you gush at his pet name for you.

“Is kitten good or would you prefer something else? Doll, princess, baby girl-” Hoseok starts listing causing you to shake your head.

“Kitten is perfect” You reply, cutting him off. He nods, before once again attempting to force his cock into your mouth. You unhinge your jaw as much as you can but you simply can’t open your jaw enough to take him in.

“You’re too thick. I don’t think I can”

“Ah. Not to worry. I am overcompensation” He says. You cock your head curiously, watching in awe as his cock pulses and shrinks to a much more manageable size.

“Is that the muscle changing nanotechnology?”

“That is correct. Now come on, take me in kitten” Hoseok encourages and your lips are quickly wrapping around the head of his cock. Hoseok runs his long fingers through your hair, firmly grabbing the locks and tugging them as he tries to force more of his length into your mouth. You smile over him, having missed the feeling of Namjoon roughly face fucking you. You tighten your mouth, practically creating a vacuum before sucking hard while swirling your tongue around his head. Hoseok’s cock still drips with the vanilla milkshake precum, coating your tongue with the taste of him.

You swallow thickly, Hoseok humming in what you want to think is pleasure but considering his mechanical self, you can’t be too sure. You gaze at him from your knees, keeping your eyes trained on him as you lightly suck. Hoseok leans forward slightly, slowly grinding his hips into your mouth. He moves so sensually that you forget he’s a robot for a minute. Kneeling before him, you bob your head eagerly, attempting to take his cock further into the back of your throat.

“You’re doing so good kitten. Good girls love sucking cock don’t they?” Hoseok asks after praising you and you nod eagerly, tongue lavishing his hard member with attention. Hoseok pushes in further and you give him access, allowing him to split your jaw open as he pushes more and more of his cock into your wide-open mouth. He stops when you gag, his cock hitting the back of your throat as your eyes water. You maintain eye contact with him, as he pushes even deeper past your throat.

Hoseok holds you there as you try to swallow around him, only choking on his length as it invades your esophagus. A few moments later, you’re about ready to tap out when Hoseok pulls you off of him. You gasp for hair, watching as strings of your saliva coat his cock. Hoseok smirks from on top of you before he’s once again forcing his dick down your mouth. You groan in pleasure, pushing two fingers into your cunt, pumping repeatedly as he fucks your mouth.

Holding your head in place, Hoseok uses your mouth as a cocksleeve as he powerfully drives his hips in and out of your mouth. The sounds of gagging and choking fill the room, the occasional slurp slipping through as you try not to dribble all over yourself. You finger move in and out of your cunt furiously, humping your fingers and trying to take them deeper into you, despite your leggings being in the way. You jerk your head when his cock begins pulsing, your free hand rubbing and massaging his balls.

“Are you gonna cum?” You ask with a gasp, Hoseok allowing you to fist his cock as you take one of his balls into your mouth, licking the flesh before suckling.

“Yes”

“How much can you cum” You asked curiously, releasing his balls with a pop and moving to the other one.

“Up to gallons” He replies and immediately your walls clench around your fingers as you imagine him filling you up with all that cum. You could just imagine how much you’d be leaking if he came in you.

“Fuck okay. Cum down my throat” You say, mouth moving back to his cock.

“As you wish” Hoseok says, watching you expertly swallow him down again. His hands brace themselves on either side of your head and then he’s pushing as deep into your mouth as he could, before he cums. You choke, momentarily surprised by the sheer volume and thickness before drinking it down. You swallow and swallow, relishing in the feel of his warm cum washing down your throat and filling your stomach. There’s so much cum that you can’t possible keep up with swallowing, causing it to back up into your mouth. Hoseok abruptly pulls out, leaving your mouth filled with his orgasm.

You hold it in your mouth, more than happy it tasted like vanilla milkshake as you gave your throat a rest. Hoseok reaches over, squeezing your cheeks. With a surprised gasp, you release his cum, letting it dribble all over your chest. Hoseok smiles as it’s absorbed by your clothing, painting your neck white and staining your top.

“You look good drenched in cum” Hoseok praises and you blush. It goes silent as he stares at you, awaiting your next move and you heart drops slightly.

“Is something wrong? Was I too rough? Did I do something wrong”

“Sorry. No, you were wonderful. It’s just… with my boyfriend away for so long i need something more than a sexbot. I… I miss intimacy” You say, looking away. Your cunt was still drenched, pussy pulsing as you had yet to cum.

“I see. Give me a few moments.” You watch as his eyes glow slightly once again, the whirring sound of machine filling the air.

“What are you doing?”

“Big Hit installed programmed into me that can be downloaded to enhance the experience. Programmes that increase the pleasure outputted to the user” Hoseok informs and you watch him curiously.

“Programmes like?”

“Love. Desire. Intimacy. Thing to improve user satisfaction. Download complete” Hoseok finally says. When he turns back to you, you’re gasping slightly by the depth of emotions displayed in his once golden eyes.

He slowly bends down to you, taking your neck in his hand before pulling you up gentle off of your knees. You’re pleasantly surprised by his gentleness, allowing him to pull you in for a kiss. His lips are soft against yours, moving languidly. He licks your lips causing you to part them as he forces his tongue into you. You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as you stand on the tips of your toes. Hoseok’s wiry arms wrap around you and before you know it, you’re being lifted up and off the ground. Legs automatically wrap around his narrow hips; you guide Hoseok to your bedroom, grinding your covered crotch against his cock, groaning into the kiss as the head sits against your abdomen.

Once in your bedroom, he gently places you down on the bed before pressing his body against yours. Hoseok braces himself above you on his arms, both your lips still locked in a kiss as he cock rests on your stomach. Amazed by the warmth of his body, you pull him closer with his legs, wanting to feel his weight over you. Hoseok breaks off your kiss, trailing his lips down your jaw and lightly peppering kisses as one hand moves to massage your breast through your cum stained top. One of his hands slips under your top, thumb brushing against your nipple, causing you to gasp and arch into his touch.

The hand under your top moves to the hem as he divests it off of you, leaving your breasts bare. Hoseok kisses along your collarbone before taking your nipple in his mouth, lightly sucking before rolling the hardened peak between his teeth. You gasp out, fingers fisting into his hair as you pull him closer into your chest. Releasing your breast, he moves to the other one, lavishing it in the same amount of attention, rolling the nipple between his teeth and lightly nipping. You press your crotch against his cock, trying to grind into his thick cock, needing some friction against your weeping cunt.

Hoseok kisses your sternum before licking a trail down your ribs and stomach. His tongue dips into your belly button, swirling around and causing tingles to run up and down your spine at the attention he lavishes on your body. Hoseok’s lips soon find their way to the waistband of your leggings and he’s pressing one final kiss on your lower abdomen before slowly spreading your legs. His fingers press against your cunt through your leggings and immediately he finds your clit. You let out a small mewl, bucking into his hand as he rubs you.

“Hoseok. Please.” You gasp out, your arousal already soaking through your leggings. He smiles from under you before hooking his fingers under the waistband of both your leggings and panties, pulling them off swiftly, leaving you completely bare.

Instantly, he’s flipping you over onto your front. You gasp at the sudden change of position before pushing against him as you finally feel the heat of his cock against your bare skin. Hoseok’s hands move to massage your ass cheeks, grinding his cock between them and covering your back and ass in even more precum.

“You’ve got an amazing ass” Hoseok compliments and you mewl, pushing further into him. Suddenly, he spanks it, eyes trained on the way it ripples under him.

“Does my good girl like being spanked?” Hoseok asks and you nod into your pillow, hissing as he spanks you once again. He bends over, trailing kisses all over the middle of your spine until he reaches your ass. You feel his lips brush against the fleshy globes before spreading them using his thumbs.

“You’re so wet and swollen. Hold yourself open for me kitten” He instructs and you immediately do as he says, spreading your legs slightly to give him better access. Hoseok grins before moving one of his hands to spread open your cunt with two of his fingers, exposing the pink of your insides. He blows cool air on your heated pussy, causing you to groan out. Lowering his head, he places a kiss on both your lips while running the pads of his fingers through your dripping lips. Your groan is muffled by the pillow as he slowly drives you crazy with every one of his fleeting actions.

Your heart races and you feel completely on edge, waiting for more. Finally, after sufficiently wetting his fingers, he swipes them against your clit The stimulation has you releasing a gush of wetness, Hoseok’s eyes trained on the way your cunt leaks. Circling the bundle of nerves with his finger, his gentle touch drags along your clit, eliciting another deep groan from you.

Finally, Hoseok’s head dipped between your lips, licking a swipe from your cunt all the way to your ass. Your back automatically arched, pushing your hips further into his face. Hoseok teases you with a couple more kitten licks before pushing his tongue into your honeyed hole, swirling his tongue around and collecting all your arousal on his tongue. He lapped deep into you, thrusting his tongue in and out, simulating his cock. Suddenly, his fingers began vibrating and you let out a small scream followed by a hiss.

“Fuck- oh my god” You cry, legs shaking around his head as his fingers continued vibrating on your clit. Your pussy felt as if it were molten lava, leaking your hot juice and wetting your thighs and Hoseok’s face.

“Hng” You groaned, pushing further into him when he moved his tongue to lap at your clit, pushing one, then two of his vibrating fingers into your pussy. Gently suckling on your clit, Hoseok crooked his knuckle-deep fingers inside you, expertly locating your g-spot and causing vibrations of pleasure to strum along them. Your vocal cords strained, voice cracking as you let out another cry. You felt your pussy walls ripple, abdomen twisting into a wrenching knot inside of you as he continued lapping your clit while unrelentingly thrusting his vibrating fingers against your sweet spot.

You simply couldn’t catch your breath, your head lolling helplessly to the side as your shoulders slump into the mattress. You quickly felt your orgasm approach, the knot in your stomach twisting even further as Hoseok drove you to the brink of pleasure. Your hips moved instinctively, grinding your pussy against his eager face as Hoseok buried it deeper between your thighs.

“I’m- oh god I’m going to cum” You warn, voice raspy and throat raw. You breath deeper, gasps turning into low moans as your body seizes up, eyes rolling deep into the back of your skull as you came around his vibrating fingers. Hoseok felt you gush around his hand and immediately pulled them out, replacing them with his tongue as he licked and swallowed up all of your cunt juice. You tried to push him away, thighs still quivering as he continues eating you out. You squeal, the overstimulation of your orgasm paired with Hoseok’s continued ministrations driving you wild.

You feel him pull away, exhaling as your pussy finally has some relief. However, it doesn’t last long before suddenly Hoseok’s tongue is pressing against your ass. You squeal once again at the alien sensation of his tongue wiggling against your rosebud. You feel him force it into your ass, his appendage struggle against how tight you were. However, he’s unrelenting and you slowly feel your ass opening up and loosening, allowing him to rim you. Your fingers curl into the sheets trying to draw away as he forces his vibrating fingers back into your cunt.

“Oh my god- I can’t. Hobi-” You groan, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“You can” Hoseok demands and you whine, your cunt walls burning from overstimulation as his vibrating fingers pump into and out of you furiously before scissoring them, opening your cunt for his incredibly thick cock. Your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably once again as he forces you into another orgasm almost immediately after your previous one. When you soak his fingers for a second time, you feel him pull one out before pressing it against your ass.

“OH” You gasped, feeling him rub your cum around your ass, lubing it up for when his fingers undoubtedly penetrate you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation and before long, he’s pushing the tip into you, slowly opening your ass the way he’d opened your cunt. You moan his name from under him, feeling him slowly enter you before thrusting his finger in and out.

“It’s too much” You protest. You’re completely wired, nerves screaming from the attention he’s lavishing on both your cunt and ass. Your pussy leaked uncontrollably, clenching and unclenching as he continued forcing his fingers deep into you. You feel a second finger push into your ass, stretching you out and making you jerk forward, tears pooling in your eyes, feeling them leak into your pillow.

“Once more. Cum for me once more” Hoseok command and you shake your head.

“I can’t” You cry out but even as you say that, you push further into him, the pleasure mixed with the pain very slowly driving you delirious. Abruptly, his fingers started vibrating and you screamed, feeling his tongue swirl around the fingers in your ass before twirling around the fingers in your cunt, happily lapping your arousal. He wrapped his lips around your clit, his fingers vibrating even fast as he sucks and bites hard at your sensitised bud. You take in a shuddering breath before wailing out his name.

You feel your pussy gush in rivers, squirting all over his hand and mouth as he forces you into your third consecutive orgasm. Your toes locked, curling instinctively and you painfully froze in place as you felt the air leave your lungs. Your back twisted and you cried out into the air as he continued pushing his fingers into you, drinking your cum up once again. Your orgasm ricocheted through you, leaving you feeling completely wrecked as your nerves burned with electricity. Chest heaving, you clawed futilely at his head, trying to push him away from you. Hoseok gradually slowed his pace, before finally pulling away. He watched as you slumped, your body soaked and shining with a sheen of sweat as you lay limply on the bed, muscles twitching every now and then. He pushes his fingers into his mouth, licking up all your cum and cleaning off his fingers.

You feel Hoseok’s body slowly climb on top of you, hovering over you. You feel his warm, pulsating cock rub against your overly sensitised cunt, mewling as you try to get away. Hoseok simply chuckles deeply, pressing a kiss against your temple before licking the outer shell of your ear. He trails kisses along the back of your neck and down to your shoulder blades, kissing and nipping your skin. You sigh, melting into his touch, not having felt this level of intimacy since Namjoon had left on tour.

“What do you want?” Hoseok asks, pressing another kiss on your shoulder.

“I want you in me” You say without even thinking. The sensitivity in your pussy still hadn’t faded and yet you couldn’t wait to take him into you and feel him stretch you out.

“Your wish is my command kitten” Hoseok says, pressing a kiss just under your ear. He slowly picks you up before flipping you over so he’s under you. You gingerly move to straddle him, muscles protesting the movement but you do not care.

You place your cunt on the middle of his shaft, rubbing your pussy lips all over him as you soak his cock in your left over cum. Hoseok’s hands move to grip your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh as he helps you wet his cock to make it easier for him to slide into you. Once you’re both sufficiently messy and sticky, you wrap your hand around the base of his shaft and slowly lift his cock so its standing. Moving so you’re kneeling you press the head of his cock against your opening, wiggling slightly and leaking over him. Slowly, you try to push him into you, wincing when the thick, bulbous cockhead attempts to push into your already wrecked hole. You take a deep breath and force yourself down on it, crying out when the stinging of the stretch ripples through your walls.

“I can change the size if it’s too much” Hoseok says, watching the way your face scrunches in a grimace. You swallow thickly before nodding. Hoseok’s cock instantly changes shape, becoming slightly thinner and shortening. You mean when the head easily enters you, your walls stretching to accommodate him. Slowly, you sink down on him, head thrown back in pleasure as he opens up your velvet cunt walls. The burn of the ache hurts similarly to when Namjoon slides you into you for the first time, causing you to sigh at the familiar sensation.

“Fuck, your cock is so good” You whine, Hoseok’s finger tips gripping your hips even tighter. Once he’s buried into the hilt, you still, letting your walls slowly get used to the feel of him inside you. A couple moments later, Hoseok thrusts up, tilting his hips to aim for the sensitive spot inside you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. You brace your hands on his strong thighs before sliding yourself off him until only hit tip is inside you. Lowering yourself back down you groaned, your pussy milking his cock. Gradually, you picked up your speed until you were bouncing on top of him, riding out the sensitivity in your cunt.

You moved your ass over him, the sound of skin slapping against each other filling the air as you rode Hoseok’s cock for all it was worth. His hands moved from your hips to your chest, rolling and palming your bouncing tits in his hand, thumb tweaking your nipples and causing you to shudder on top of him. You bounced even harder on top of him, hands clenching around his thighs as you ground your hips in circles, feeling him deeper within you. But as pleasure strummed along your veins, you needed more.

“Hoseok” You gasp out, looking at him through half lidded, pleasure filled eyes.

“What do you want, kitten?” He asks, staring up at you with dark eyes.

“Your cock. Longer. Thicker.” You gasp out, barely able to form sentences; but you don’t need to. Hoseok grasps your words and your immediately moaning as you feel him grow longer and thicker inside you, the burn of the stretch only forcing your hips to move hard. You feel his head push painfully against your cervix, the tip battering the end of your pussy with every movement.

“Is that what you want? Do you like the way I fill you up? You’re so good kitten. Your pussy is milking my cock so good. Do you want me to cum in your pussy?” Hoseok taunts as he begins bucking up into you, his hands moving to hold your jiggling ass cheeks as you bounce on top of him.

“Yes! Please! Make me cum and fill me up” You gasp out. Hoseok immediately jerks so he’s sitting up, his chest pressed tight against yours. Your eyes widen as he pulls you closer, your hands uncurling from his thighs so you could wrap your arms around his shoulders as your fingers entwine with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Hoseok’s hands spread your ass cheeks, one of his hands’ fingers rubbing against your cunt where you were joined, gathering up your arousal on his fingers once again. He pushes two fingers into against your ass, slipping one in and then the second. You groan and while the sensation is familiar, it feels completely different this time. You stare deep into Hoseok’s eyes as he slips his fingers deeper into your ass, pumping them into and out. The hand still holding onto his shoulder presses your fingernails into his skin, leaving little crescent shaped marks in his flesh. You felt the heat pool in your abdomen and instantly knew your orgasm was impending.

“I’m going to fill you. I’m going to cum so deep in you and you’re going to take it because you’re my good girl, aren't you?” Hoseok whispers, voice deep and throat as his lips brush against yours. You nod with a whine, bouncing harder on top of him.

“Yes. Please. Fill me up. Cum in me” You beg, Hoseok taking your lips between his as you both kiss sloppily.

“Play with your clit. Cum on my cock” Hoseok orders through your kiss. Your arm twists and you reach for your clit, furiously stroking the bundle of nerves. The feel of Hoseok’s cock deep with you paired with his low vibrating fingers in your ass and your own finger on your clit as you slowly reaching the precipice of your orgasm.

Hoseok takes your lips between his teeth, biting hard enough to draw blood and immediately you feel your body seize. Your hands move to hold Hoseok’s shoulder as he continues thrusting up into you, nails digging into his skin. Throwing your head back, you wail out his name, milking his cock and gushing as you squirt your cum, soaking his cock. Your cried in ecstasy, feeling Hoseok unleash a torrent of hot cum straight up your cunt. You felt him spurt rope after rope of his thick cum into you, sending tingles all over your body as he filled you up. He cums so much in you that your stomach slightly puffs out, filling up with his semen.

Moments pass and you sit on Hoseok’s lap, panting heavily above him. Hoseok pulled out his cock and you mewled as you felt his cum gush out of you, soaking into the sheets with the rest of your cum. Falling forward, Hoseok catches you as you brace yourself against him. You feel every ounce of energy leave your muscles, unable to move from your vigorous session. The two of you stay still for a few moments, allowing you to catch your breath.

“Did you enjoy your experience? If so, would you like to leave a review and a rating out of five stars?” Hoseok’s voice suddenly breaks the silence. You stiffen before shaking your head. You didn’t even have the energy to laugh or say anything.

But you’d be damned if you rated anything lower than five stars.

A/N: don’t tell anybody but I m a y just be planning a part two where joon comes home and hobi and joon fuck reader together,,,,, but you didn’t hear that from me

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